Rigorous Days and Restful Nights on the Kennet & Avon Canal

[Sunset on the Kennet & Avon Canal. Photo is mine]

Part 1 ~~ Starting Out And Mooring

After arriving at Devizes we had little trouble finding the Foxhangers Canal Boat Rental building. Our boat wasn’t quite ready so we strolled down to the canal and found a lock. I (having watched three YouTube videos on how to open and close a lock) decided that Mariam needed a little bit of explanation of the mechanics and engineering of an English lock. So I spent the next thirty-five minutes mansplaining how one could go from one level to a higher or lower level by using the ingenious lock system.

We returned to the office where Kristy was ready to check us in and send us with our car down to the wharf where our boat was now waiting. But first we needed the restrooms. Finding them took about fifteen minutes.

A few minutes later we were introducing ourselves to Jon. He was the guy who was responsible for giving us a walk-through, instructing us about what was where and how to use it. At the end, we were at the stern. He explained the basics of tilling and steering. I pretty much got that because I have paddled canoes since since about 1956. Want to turn RIGHT, pull the rudder to the LEFT. No problem.

But what about the locks. I didn’t have a 100% grasp of how they worked. I knew the theory, I just didn’t know the method. We walked toward a lock and he gave us a hands-on lesson on how to open the sluices and fill the lock. How to close the gates, let the water rise or fall, and then do it again at the next gates. Our boat (50′ long Narrow Boat) would fit in just right, he said. Back at the stern he handed me a clip board and asked me to check off all the things he had briefed us about. I did.

“Who’s the skipper?” Jon asked.

“Me, I guess,” I said.

“Sign here.” I did.

That meant I was in charge and Mariam was my crew of one. He asked if we wanted to pilot the boat a short distance to get the feel of the thing. I said sure.

Five minutes later he hopped off and went back to the wharf to attend another customer.

It was about 5:30 pm by now. We had to be moored by dusk (an insurance thing).

We were off. Speed limit was 4 mph. I kept it at a notch below that but there was no speedometer, so it was a pure guess. Our first lock was due up in a very short time. Then luck came our way (and remained with us for much of the trip). The other boat that was departing Foxhangers around the same time as us happened to be four twenty-something lads from India. One of them was quite fit. Great muscle tone and seemingly strong. I filed that away in the recesses of my seventy-six years old mind.

One of the points of canal boat etiquette is that if the opportunity comes along, two boats should share the lock (these are “narrow boats” remember). That way labor is saved and water is not wasted. Lucky for us, these friendly guys offered to go through the first several locks together.

At this point I should cut in on the narrative and say that as soon as we hit the water (so to speak) a division of labor was established between Mariam and me. She was very certain she didn’t want the responsibility of steering, something I felt quite secure about. Mariam would work alongside the young men, learning how to use the windlass to crank open the sluices and opening the gates. The guys and ourselves were all first-timers on the canal so the arrangement would be a win-win for everyone.

All I had to do was to keep my iPhone handy for the right photo-op and keep one hand on the throttle and the other on the tiller. True, Mariam had the more physically demanding part of the job, but behind her delicate 105 pound exterior, she possess a strong core. And she is a quick study. Her learning curve would be steep but quick. Mine, on the other hand, usually is slow on all counts.

[Mariam successfully completes opening and closing a swing bridge. Alone. Photo is mine]

We soon said farewell to the fellows from India. They were shooting for a pub near the canal a little bit beyond the point where we decided to moor. This raises a whole new set of issues. The best mooring is one using bollards (something like a cleat) to secure the boat for the night. The other, much less desirable method of mooring, is to pull up close to the canal path, jump off with the center rope (line) and spike in the three lines. The bow, the stern and the center. It’s the same as pitching a tent…with a few exceptions…the spikes are about 18″ long and need a mallet that weighs about forty pounds. So, I got Mariam close by, she leaped, she landed safely and pegged us in. I later used the gang-plank to further drive the spikes in more securely.

[Canal path and the Fennec Fox stake mooring. Photo is mine]

This type of mooring has its advantages and disadvantages. Join me in sorting this bit out. The best thing is that you are often (but not always) moored away from people. This alone has its subcategories. Alone. It’s quiet, with no barking dogs or over friendly travelers. But, alone means you don’t have anyone to help you out when trouble arises. More on this later.

It’s disadvantages are that it can be difficult to find ideal places to do the leaping. On our second night, we could find no proper mooring places with sturdy bollards. The schrubbery was daunting. I decided to be the leaper on this one so I took the middle line (the middle line is the best one to start the mooring) in my right hand and stared at the distance I would have to cover. If I was successful, I would land on solid ground and Mariam would toss me the spike. If I was unsuccessful, I would land in the green/brown water of the canal. I was wearing my expensive HOKAS so there really wasn’t any room for error. I refused to get my sweet gray sneakers change into the color of some long extinct species of algae. I should note here that it was about 89º F that day and I had unzipped the lower legs of my hiking pants, converting them to shorts.

So, there I was standing with the rope in my hand balanced on the gunwale. I looked at Mariam with the expression of a young soldier going off to war.

“Mariam, there’s two outcomes here. I will land safely or I will do something to my lower back (already well into an epic spasm) that my Orthopedic Surgeon in NYC will not only disapprove of but will likely take me to court for non-compliance of medical orders.” This last thought held me back for a moment longer. Would Foxhangers air drop me a walker? Crutches? A wheelchair? In the end, I knew it didn’t matter. I was in England and I was not covered by the National Health System.

So I made the leap.

I landed hard on hard ground and I had to roll like the people who land after a parachute jump. I stood and brushed off the gravel embedded in my knees and looked around to be sure none of this was being videoed for general release on the Internet. I didn’t want to go viral this way. It was then that I felt the pain.

On my way across the small gap of water I had passed through (remember, I was wearing shorts) a large clump of nettles. Now, I grew up with nettles along the Susquehanna River bank in Owego, NY. But these were no ordinary nettles. This species came from another planet. My shins caught fire and I had no way to extinguish the blaze. It hurt like hell. I finished pounding the remaining spikes and used the gang plank to board the ship. I drank a half liter of water to replace the seven liters I had just sweated away.

Then the stinging slowly eased up on my shins…only to be replaced with numbness. You could have stuck a knitting needle in my shin bone and I would have smiled. It was a nice feeling in a way, but I didn’t think I had any legs below my knees. How was I going to walk to the bed to lay down and cool off? With Mariam’s arm, of course. I lay back on the narrow bed and wondered what had become of the cool, brisk and misty English weather? (I read later that a few heat records were broken that day.)

Enough misery. Let’s explore the boat for a moment.

[This was my tiller. My place of work. My reason for swollen feet and ankles from standing for hours. Photo is mine]

[Another view of my office. Throttle on the left. Gauge panel on the right. Dark opening led to our bedroom. Photo is mine]

Part 2 ~~ The Locks

I’m sure that this is the part of the post that you were waiting for. Unfortunately, I am going to skip over all the details of how the engineering works. I will include a diagram that will be helpful in understanding how you can go up or down hill using locks. Nor will I go into any deep history of how this technology developed. But, here are the basics:

England has hundreds of miles of canals, ranging from Sussex in the south to Scotland. Ireland has canals as well. They were built to haul such commodities as wool, coal, grain, wood and other items from one place to a distant place. The watercraft are called “Longboats” because they were made to navigate along narrow waterways. The Kennet & Avon Canal is one of many located in the area near Bath and Bristol. One could, in theory, go just about anywhere in England using the canals. These days, lorries and trains carry the goods. The canal traffic is almost exclusively for tourists, hobbyists or more curiously, traveling people.

There is a whole subculture of canallers. We met one guy who was in his sixties. He owned his boat and lived on it. He said he’d been on the water for a year and three months. Some canallers moor at a location and live there until someone from the Canal & River Trust moves them along. Your permit to stay moored is good for two weeks. There have been disagreements between the people who want to travel (like us) and those who want to live rent-free. It’s a very interesting group. The vast majority are friendly and are willing to help you with the locks and offer advice about a wide range of topics. We connected with college kids, young couples, retirees and many others. A few were solo travelers. I did not meet a woman solo boater.

Here is a photo taken during the time when we passed through a lock. I had to pay very close attention to the tiller so picture taking had to be quick.

[Passing through a lock with two boats. Notice Mariam to the left with the black tee-shirt. Photo is mine]

Part 3 ~~ Final Thoughts

I will end this rather long post with a few thoughts, for the curious and for anyone contemplating such an adventure.

I was sorry it was over so soon. Yes, it was unusually warm which made things difficult. And, yes, we both were hit hard by our allergies. I have rarely been so nasally challenged. I sneezed. I teared. I sweated and I coughed. I also gained a new respect for nettles. But, the pace of the trip was gentle on my soul. Everything slows down. The world passes by so gently you can watch a bee pollinate a flower. You look out at the pastures at the lowing herds. Moving past the meadows you expect to catch a glimpse of Pooh Bear, the Mole, a hobbit or the Piper at the Gates of Dawn. After every turn, I wanted to jump to the path and sit on a bridge and sketch the willows, a cottage or the very old bricks I sat upon. I wanted to write poetry like Byron and Shelly. I yearned for my watercolor kit. I had the urge to read something about the churches we saw in the distance and go and remunerate about life and death among the mossy and lichen-covered tombstones. Yes, the headstones that named the interred and held carvings that spoke of faith and being reunited in a better world.

At night, the quiet was absolute. The rush of blood through your ears is all you can hear…if you are really hearing it. Venus, shining bright in the western sky…The Evening Star. I fell asleep to rocking of the boat that was so gentle you would dream of your mother.

I will miss all that and more.

Would I do it again? Yes. But not with just two seventy-something people who already had aches from muscles that had been used for your entire lifetime. I would take along two other people to help with the hard work.

I am constantly refusing to give in to my ageing aches, but I’ve had enough of pain, for awhile…until the next adventure beckons.

[The best mooring we had. Real bollards. A pub. And a little WiFi to catch up on things. Note: We didn’t eat at the pub. We had much better microwave meals. Photo is mine]

[Mariam watches the world go by from the bow. Photo is mine]

[Our final bridge before returning to Foxhangers. Photo is mine]

[It’s all over now. Returning the Kennec Fox to Foxhangers. Note: All their boats are names for different kinds of foxes. The Kennec fox has ridiculously large ears. Google it. Photo is mine]

Additional Diagram Of The Parts Of A Lock. Source: Google search: