First Impressions (On canal life)

JOURNAL ENTRY

8th May, Wednesday.

“A May evening of golden haze
 And drifting willow down
 And the busy day winds down.

Nearby, lambs call as mothers graze and nuzzle
 Beyond them, chiff-chaff, robin, and bluetit.
 Further distant, the sound of children playing.
 Beyond that a dog barks and another answers.
 Further still a train clatters over some points.

Encircled by ever increasing concentric
 rings of soundscapes
 That pin me to the epicentre of this
 May evening of golden haze."

[MUSIC]

WELCOME

The moon is still young, a sickle of quicksilver dipping low in the west. There's a ragged wind blowing in from the east - warm and dusty – gusting and hooliganing around the alders, bevelling the surface of the canal. There's a change in the air, the static charge of expectation. The hot dry spell is ending. Even now, storms are rolling in towards us over the Atlantic. 

This is the narrowboat Erica narrowcasting into the darkness of a May night under a perfect crescent moon to you wherever you are.

Thank you so much for coming. I was hoping you could make it tonight. It's been a long and busy week, so come inside for a while, put your feet up, the kettle is on, the biscuit barrel is to hand. Welcome aboard.  

[MUSIC]

NEWS FROM THE MOORINGS  

The last few days have rolled in warm and sunny, catching a few by surprise. Sweating in jumpers, ill-chosen, in the damp cool breath of dawn, hurriedly damping down stoves and opening windows (apparently, around here, there was a frost last weekend). There has certainly been the touch of summer heat about things here. There’s the hay-sweet, cattle-byre, smell of cut grass warmed by the sun. The slowing of the pace along the canal banks. But it’s not summer. Not yet, breathe in deeply and you can taste with your nose the bouquet of hawthorn and cow parsley and fresh growth nettle. The towpaths swirl with an aromatic palette, rich and fertile with colour and as heady as any wine. The wine of high Spring.

It’s all come rather suddenly! Nature’s Calendar, a book based on the 72 micro-seasons of Japan declare this week to be ‘First Swifts’ leading into the second week ‘Lilac Time.’ They’re well named. Last week, I spotted our first pair of swallows, a rush of arrow-flight, black and white and soft blur of dull red, needling over the hill and down towards the open stretch of canal. There’s plenty for them to eat  their long journey. Soft, muzzy, veils hang and dance over the canal’s surface. Chaotic murmurations shoaling in lazy air of tiny dragons on breath-thin wings. The fish too appreciate these arial contortions, the mirrored water breaking in splashes that sends rings across the canal and into the thick new stands of reeds, where the moorhens hide. 

Spring is suddenly here and she is in full stride and summer will need to run quick to catch up. It is too fast for me to keep up with. Purples and blues of vetch, forget-me-not have taken their cue from the scattered veils of bluebell that never fail to stir my imagination. They seem to be in far greater presence along the local towpath this year. Possibly the tree and undergrowth thinning has helped. Cerise, pinks and reds also spangle field and towpath edges, and just a short way down the canal, a cluster of pussy willow confetti the air with spindrift of feathered down.

Almost overnight, the yellow flag is out. They roar and blaze along the canal-side with their exotic lion’s head trumpets. I’m amazed still by how quick things change. One night a proud green thrust of tall blade-like leaves, spring-green and rich, in the morning, from seemingly out of nowhere the yellow iris opens its throat to drink in the dawn. 

Suddenness seems to be the character of this Spring. From one day to another, overnight, things change. When we got back from Norfolk last weekend, the banks and a nearby field were filled with dandelions. I’d planned on picking a bundle of heads as I wanted to make some balm. However, it’s a busy time at work for me and so had to put it off – I also needed the flower heads to be as sun-dried as possible. However, in the space of a day, the field of yellow suns had transformed into sentry rows of perfect feathery globes. A day after that, even they had gone. Only the buttercups and the white pin-pricks of chickweed remain. I will have to wait until the next crop grows or I find another field.

From the last few days, a visitor could well be forgiven for thinking that summer is here, but it is not here yet. Look to the field edges and corners, still wet with morning dew at sundown. During the broad heat of the day, the long grasses remain cool, buttercups and nettle, thistle, dandelion and cow parsley grow thick and strong. Here is the place where tufts of plantain and timothy grow tall. The fields smell of baked earth and hay, but here, here where the sun’s strength still cannot penetrate, it smells gloriously and luxuriously of the night-time. For despite the sun’s strength, it is still not quite at its height. There are corners where the last shadows of winter still cling and is welcomed by snail and slugs and all things that delight in the damp and cool. On our midday walks, in the heat of the day, I cling to these deep green oases nestled under trees and alongside hedges. Local biospheres that remind us once more how precious trees and their shade are. Maggie snuffles the long grass, dew pearling on the short fur around her snout and I enjoy the feel of damp seeping through my shoes and socks. We are both happy. It’s Spring in her fullest of strides. Heat ripples over the fields and promises a summer ahead. And here, here is a verdant green, full and fertile, buzzing with life, at the field edges, on the margins that are not in fact margins, but the centre of everything.

[MUSIC]

CABIN CHAT

[MUSIC]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS (ON CANAL LIFE)

In the last episode, I mentioned how much I had been enjoying the Karen and Jason Politte’s posts of their time on the Leeds and Liverpool canal. Karen and Jason have been listeners to the podcast for a number of years and have mentioned to me about their desire to move to the UK and become continuous cruisers in their own boat. So, a couple of weeks ago, they flew over from their home in Arkansas to hire a narrowboat and have their first taste of life-aboard the canals and waterways of Britain. The weather seemed, on the main, to be kind to them, and they seemed to have a great time. I asked Jason, if he minded jotting a few notes down of their first impressions and how the reality measured up to the dream. I am sure you’d find it interesting and I find accounts like that fascinating as things now taken for granted are brought are once more seen anew. Jason very kindly sent me this email. 

He started by saying

We can both say quite easily that living on a narrowboat for a few days did indeed meet all our expectations of how we thought it would be, and that we loved our time on Sam’s Drum. It really helped give us an idea of what the life is all about and also allowed us to solidify a few ideas about what we’d look for in a boat for ourselves.

If you are considering living on a boat, or even buying one, if you haven’t had any previous experience of being on a narrowboat or being on a canal, this is much the best way to start and I would recommend it to everyone. It is not the type of life for everyone. There is nothing like first-hand experience. I heard of a couple, recently, who led a very nomadic lifestyle and who were seriously considering becoming continuous cruisers. On paper they looked the ideal match for this type of life, they were used to living off-grid, highly practical, and both had an extremely positive ‘can-do’ attitude to life and everything that it throws at them. However, after spending a week or two on a hire boat they both began to feel too hedged in and restricted to this thin watery road. Moreover, the loved the mountains and wilderness areas and places that canals wouldn’t take them to. As much as they enjoyed the time, they realised that this type of life just wasn’t for them, at this moment.

Hiring a boat can help you get a more realistic picture of not just living on a boat, but the canals themselves. Life at three miles an hour with erratic internet access might sound like heaven, but it can, in reality, be just too slow for some.         

I know it is not always possible – especially if, like Karen and Jason, you live abroad – it is also costly, but if you can book at week or two in the winter season or early spring, that can also be helpful in experiencing boating when weather feels as if it is against you. But, as I say, that is not always feasible.  

Jason continues:
 
 One of the things that really surprised both of us was how separate the canals are from the cities/towns they go through. I equated it to Karen as similar to how the wizarding world in the Harry Potter books/movies exists alongside and within the muggle world but separate and almost totally unseen. Driving through English cities, you’d never know the canals were there unless you were looking for them.

On our last evening aboard, we walked into Silsden, which was super busy and frenetic, but after a couple of minutes of reaching the towpath and walking back toward the boat, you would’ve never known all that craziness was back there - it was just a wonderfully quiet and peaceful walk back.

Yes, I love your description of it, Jason, it can feel exactly like that. Like an alley or side-street missed by the passage of time. where time has Love that description – of course, sometimes it is not always as smooth as this. It can feel very much like that. More recently in some towns and cities, the canals have seen a lot of investment, turning them into features and gathering places, populated with eateries, coffee-shops, and leisure retail shops. This has also helped, transforming what were often derelict and anti-social places into focal points – for residents and boaters. Of course, there are still areas that we would not moor and there are locations that the boaters’ grapevine can be helpful in negotiating. If you are on a boat, you will quickly hear of trouble-spots. However, these are rare and, as often happens, one poor person’s bad experience can overshadow fifty who experienced no problems.

All my experiences so far have been very positive and there is a lovely sense of occasion when the two worlds meet – urban and canal. Exactly as you describe it, ‘existing alongside and yet somehow separate.’

 Jason continues:

So, on to boatlife . . . we absolutely loved both it and the lifestyle. It’s amazing how easy it was to just hop on and start going without any real previous experience. Driving the boat was fairly intuitive, but it did take a little bit of practice to get the feel of how to get the boat slowed down properly at the bank to get moored or drop Karen off to work the swing bridges we went through.

That’s great, you are right, handling a boat is intuitive. It’s when you try to stop and think about it is when things go wrong. Getting the hang of which way to move the tiller is the thing that can catch most people – you move it in the opposite direction to the way you want the bow to turn. It is perfectly obvious if you don’t think too much about it, it is when you overthink it, it can become confusing! Haha! You rotter, making Karen do the swing bridges!!!

Karen was a bit surprised at how boaty and floaty the boat felt if that makes sense. LOL  Not that it was a dislike per se, just surprising to her. You don’t truly get the feel of how much the boat can move around when moored through watching YouTube videos.

Actually, that comment surprised me too, as it has never really been something I’m aware of since moving onto the Erica. I do remember coming back from one of the trips with Mum and Dad and it feeling a bit odd to walk on solid ground, and I was waiting for it to hit me when we moved aboard. You do get the sensation of gentle rocking from time to time, but not much. I wonder if the length of the boat has something to do with it? The boat Mum and Dad hired was, I think 48ft so a bit shorter than the Erica.

Of course, in a lock or when it is really windy (or people getting on and off), you do get that feeling. But, as you say Jason, it’s more a feeling of being afloat than the rocking of a boat at sea. 

 
 I don’t know if this is normal or if our Webasto diesel central heating system was just old and noisy, but it was way too loud to be able to sleep when it was turned on. At times it reminded me of the noise the U.S.S Enterprise made in Star Trek when Scotty was giving it all she’s got. LOL We had to resort to switching it off before going to sleep, but even with the temp dropping below freezing for a couple of nights, it never got uncomfortably cold - a bit chilly perhaps but not too bad. It worked great at keeping the boat warm, but just too much noise to have on at night. I would imagine a multi fuel stove would be a much quieter option for keeping the boat toasty during the night. Am I right in thinking that keeping the boat warmer inside would also keep so much condensation from forming on the inside of the windows?

It could have just been an old system, but I suspect it is more than difference between a hire boat and one fitted out for living on. Some heaters can be a lot louder than others. There is one near here that I can hear almost a quarter of a mile away in the mornings! However, it can also be down to sound proofing. For example, ours is located in the engine bay, which has some – albeit rudimentary – sound proofing and it has been fitted within a box that has also been sound-proofed. The first winter, it woke me up – but then so did the boiler in the house we rented before that – I don’t really notice it now, or I am only subconsciously aware of it. However, unless it is really cold and there is a danger of pipes freezing most boaters tend to just use them for the evening and morning. Yes, multifuel stoves are much quieter- and, we find, a friendlier warmth that (if that makes sense).

Condensation can be a problem on a boat. Double glazing can help a lot – although most boats aren’t fitted with it. Also, I have found that some boats are more prone to it than others. Some condensation on cold nights is pretty much inevitable, and having a drier heat in the cabin can cut it down a bit. It might, again, be indicative of a hire boat versus a boat fitted out for all year living that might have a lot more or better quality insulation. 
 
 The pumpout toilet on the boat may have also changed our minds about whether we would want to go with a pumpout or not. It was a very finicky thing that really didn’t do the best job of getting rid of solid waste. It would take a few tries sometimes and seemed to be a bit wasteful when it comes to water. Of course, we know nothing of how or how well cassette toilets work or whether there are better pumpout systems out there, so we’re on the fence regarding what toilet system we would prefer now.

I know that pump-outs were a question that you posed for an earlier episode. I’m sorry that you found it not terribly effective. Although I am not particularly a fan of them, most people who have them don’t seem to have any of those problems, so it might just have been unfortunate that you had one that didn’t work terribly well. It’s true that you don’t get those problems with cassettes as they are much simpler, but you do have to change and empty them a lot sooner!
 
 I found it quite surprising how busy the towpaths were with walkers and ramblers near Bradley, but everyone was super nice saying hello and asking how we were. There was a real sense of community in that regard that was quite nice to experience. That was also the case for passing boaters who would always wave with a quick hello or passing chat.

Yes, it’s lovely, isn’t it? The towpaths around here have been incredibly busy – at times almost one long crocodile line. But as you say, the friendliness and interest is lovely. The more you spend time on the water – particularly if you do become continuous cruisers, you will really get to experience that sense of community and support with the other boaters. I know that year on year, I hear complaints by older long-standing boaters that it isn’t like it used to be, but it is still there.

 Karen found the physical exertion required for working some of the rural farm swing bridges to be a bit daunting. There was at least one where it took both of us to get it moving. We understand those rural swing bridges won’t be maintained as well as the city bridges, but the fact that they’re not also makes us wonder about the future of other areas of canal maintenance with the CRT budget cuts that have been put in place. That's something we'll be keeping an eye on for the next couple of years while continuing to get enough money saved up for me to emigrate on a spousal visa with Karen.

Oh, swing bridges! They can be a real pain (literally). I know you both wanted to experience some locks but were not able to. Don’t worry, locks are not as hard work as most hand-operated swing bridges are! Yes, there is an element of lack of maintenance about it, but also it is their design. There are some great ones, like those you pull down with a rope on the Oxford Canal, but the ratchet operated ones around here can feel like 3 hours in a gym!

 Overall, we were really happy with how well we got on with living on the boat and didn’t have any great hardships or adjustments to make. It was all just really normal - no different than a house really as far as basic living with cooking, showering, using a hair dryer, refrigerator, etc. The only difference there was just being in a smaller space, so a couple has to really like being around one another which is no problem for us thankfully. LOL
 
 There were a few things I was worried about that ended up being no problem whatsoever. I was really worried about smells or odours from stagnant water and/or diesel fuel or exhaust. None of that was an issue nor were there any problems more so than a house with insects or spiders on the boat. So that was all really great that those worries were alleviated.
 
 So yeah, it was a wonderful experience and one we definitely needed to get under our belts before considering making these huge life changes. As of now, I believe the plan for us is to continue working toward that goal and hope that everything works out financially for us to be able to move in the direction of pursuing it.

SIGNING OFF 

This is the narrowboat Erica signing off for the night and wishing you a very peaceful and restful night. Good night.

WEATHER LOG