Life Afloat

Bristol Fashion has reached Hemel Hempstead, within commuting distance of my workplace in West London. So I can start living on the boat at last.

My Dad has joined me for three weekends in a row. It’s been good to have the extra pair of hands, especially at locks, and he’s enjoyed doing the driving. He’s getting good at it too – although his habit of whipping out a camcorder to film herons while navigating tight bends near moored boats can be alarming. Here he is in a lock:

It’s now evening, Dad’s gone home and I’m unpacking all my belongings. And it’s a good thing I don’t have many belongings. Where would I put them? There are small cupboards under seats, built into the bed, under the steps and I keep finding new hatches and panels in unexpected places. But soon alll these spaces are full. Maybe it’s time I actually watched those videos and read those books and then gave them away to make more room.

There’s still no running water on the boat. The water pump fuses have probably blown but I can’t locate them. No shower, no cooking, no washing. Not good. I need to call in an electrician next week to sort out this and half a dozen other problems. In the meantime I’ve stockpiled bottled water and I’ll be going swimming every day at the pool near my office and taking showers there. Can’t cook without water so I’ll just have to go to the pub every night… I could get used to this.

Having bought Bristol Fashion at Whilton Marina and in two days having only got so far as the other side of Blisworth Tunnel, I was in a hurry to reach London. That is the only possible excuse for not spending an afternoon looking around this lovely canalside village and its canal museum. That and embarrassment.

My first boat, my first tunnel and now my first lock: and I’d have to tackle it on my own. I sat in the pub in the photo above, had a bite to eat and read Going It Alone, a little book by Colin Edmondson that has great advice on boating single-handed. I read it twice. Then stepped back on board and drove up to the lock.

There’s a fair crowd of people at Stoke Bruerne on a sunny day like this and they just love to watch the boats going in and out of the locks. Today there was a party of bikers in leather jackets amongst the familes and day-trippers. I took a deep breath, tried to look as if I knew what I was doing, brought the boat to the side and stepped off. That’s when I realised I’d left the boat in forward gear.

Bristol Fashion careered off without me and I couldn’t pull hard enough on the rope to stop her. With a loud crash she hit the lock gates and stopped.

One of the bikers asked “you didn’t mean to do that did you?”

No I bloody didn’t.

Fortunately another boat (called moon something but a lot of boats are called moon something or other) came by and we travelled the next few locks together, which was a huge confidence boost and made me feel almost competent again.

I arrived at Whilton Marina early and picked up the keys to Bristol Fashion. Like many boat keys they are attached to a ball of cork – if you drop your keys in the canal you want them to float!

The marina had put Bristol Fashion on the canal, pointed in the direction of London, 90 miles away. I checked the diesel, checked I had windlasses, mooring pins and ropes in place, tested the electrics then turned the key and the engine started first time. That’s got to be a good sign. I looked at the steering wheel and thought: I’ve only used a tiller before but how difficult can this be?

I tried to remember what I’d learnt on the Inland Helmsman’s course back in May. The advice that had stuck in my mind was “It’s a 17 ton lump of steel, you won’t damage it”. I cast off for the first time, put her in forward gear and slowly moved off.

Hit the moored boat in front and bounced off a boat on the other side of the canal. I had been taught to stay in the centre of the canal and to only move to the right to pass other vessels. Crazy zigzagging wasn’t even covered on the course. Bristol fashion ended up stuck on the bank after ten minutes of chaotic slaloming.

I called the marina and one of their engineers was good enough to help me out. He opened the weed hatch and pulled out a log. I continued on my way… and hit the bank again, then another boat. This time the boat owner was aboard and stuck his head out in some alarm.

At this point I felt like giving up and selling the damn boat. What the hell had I done selling my flat to buy a boat I couldn’t drive? Until someone came along and showed me how to steer properly. I hadn’t realised that, unlike a tiller which moves the rudder exactly in proportion to its own movement, the steering wheel has to shift a whole quarter turn before moving the rudder. With that single realisation I was able to drive on to Weedon and I felt so damn happy as I successfully drove under bridges, passed by other boats and moored the boat for the night, without so much as scratching the paintwork.

I found buying a boat far more difficult than buying a flat and must have looked at more than 50 boats before deciding to buy Bristol Fashion.

At first I wanted a cruiser style narrowboat. I saw a boat, Blue Moon, at Iver which not only had a wide enough space at the back of the boat for table and chairs but in the lounge had a built-in desk perfect for an IT worker. But it sold before I could put in an offer.

I made a special journey to Braunston and Whilton marinas where I could look at dozens of boats in a weekend and have a bit of a holiday too. Bristol Fashion was moored at Whilton Marina. I hadn’t considered buying a Dutch barge style boat and she cost more than I meant to spend – but my mind was soon made up. I loved Bristol Fashion’s cabin; and the lounge and the galley and the bedroom. The boat was clean, the paintwork was fairly good and she was an attractively shaped and stylish boat, like a little ship.

It took a few months to complete on the sale of my flat, arrange a loan with my bank, instruct a boat surveyor, arrange for some repair work to be done and finalise the purchase of Bristol Fashion. Eventually, in October 2005 I took her on the long drive to London.

A few observations:

There are a lot of boats on ebay but the thought of bidding in an auction put me off and so many of the sellers make caustic remarks about time wasters that I felt it wasn’t working for them either.

The state of sale boats is, generally, awful and gets worse the closer to London you go. No attempt made to clean inside or paint outside; junk left in the boat; some boats that are more rust than steel; and worst of all in my book, not all the owners bothered to do a pump-out before taking the boat to the marina. Yet they all looked great in the photos in the marina office.

Marina staff were invariably been an excellent source of advice and as a first-time boater I never felt taken advantage of or pressured in any way.

The surveyor’s report (I used Paul Smith) was a very useful document and I still refer back to it if something goes wrong – of course it missed a few things (e.g. the broken boiler) but overall it gave me the confidence to buy the boat safe in the knowledge that she was generally physically sound.

Get a friend’s opinion, preferably a boater friend, before you buy.

I’ve wanted to live on a boat ever since I was 18. And 18 years later I finally realised that dream. Has the reality matched up to the dream? Read on…

Back in 1987 I moved to Leeds to study. I used to walk a lot and often ended up on the towpaths of the Leeds and Liverpool and Aire and Calder canals. There I saw all the boats moored up, driving slowly past, going through locks and I thought to myself: that’s the life I want.

In the years that followed I dealt with my wanderlust in other ways: several trips to India, to Eastern Europe and hitchhiking round Western Europe. I moved house as often as possible and could never feel settled anywhere for long.

In 2000 I moved from Leeds to London, where I stayed in one job for six years – a record for me – and bought a flat as an investment. But my itchy feet kept telling me to move on so I sold the flat and with the equity bought a boat.

Now I can’t imagine living back on land. It’s not always been easy but, all things considered, I love this life afloat.