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Why I go boating


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Just some random moments in boating that I love (in no particular order or priority) ….

 

 

 

Peeking out of the hatch first thing in the morning on an isolated countryside mooring – quiet sunshine greeting my upturned face – thinking, ‘this moment is mine and no one else’s’.

 

Pushing gently away from the bank, pausing before engaging forward gear, and then looking back to see the first ‘cut’ of the propeller in the glass-smooth water.

 

Passing an oncoming boat – to share a conspiratorial nod and a smile in greeting, because we both know how lucky we are to be out on the water.

 

Rounding a bend to approach a lock, to meet a boat just coming out – and the gate is left open in friendly welcome.

 

Seeing a fox gingerly emerge from the bushes lockside and then we both just sit and regard each other for a long moment before going our separate ways.

 

In town, coming into a lock with a group of youngsters larking about on the balance beam – to be greeted with “can we do the gates for you?”.

 

Ruins of old canalside buildings – reclaimed by nature amidst tangles of roots and branches – fancifully trying to work out what the doorways once led to and what used to happen behind the now-glassless windows.

 

Blackberries – fat and shiny and juicy, hanging over the waterside offering themselves to passing boaters.

 

A moorhen comically pecking away at a fallen crab apple bobbing about in the water – a lot of determined effort for a small meal.

 

Leaves turning from green to autumn colours – rounding a bend as the sun comes out to be greeted by a wall-to-wall blaze of yellow-gold-red-brown autumn leaves shimmering on the trees.

 

The electric blue flash of colour that is unmistakably a Kingfisher darting ahead of the boat, keeping low and close to the edge.

 

Clear water in riverine sections – underwater forests of aquatic plants and silvery flashes of myriad fish schooling between the stems.

 

The smell of the diesel exhaust and the rhythmic sound of the engine ticking over and feeling its heartbeat through my hand on the tiller.

 

Standing in the hatchway steering with a mug of hot tea.

 

The improbally huge and unlikely blue of coots’ feet.

 

Raising the paddles to empty a lock - endless childlike wonder at the simple spectacle of the water rushing and roaring out – and then the fade to quietness as the chamber empties and the gate yields easily to my bum pushing lazily against it!

 

 

Please feel free to add your own.

 

LCx

lovely lcx

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I think you have summed up the all enveloping feeling of peace and serenity that enfolds you when you are boating the way it should be done. I used to find it the perfect antidote to the stresses of normal life.

Beautifully expressed, my compliments to you.

Ian.

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Thanks. I wasn’t expecting greenies – I just wanted to share some of the things that make me smile, which in turn keep me enjoying my life on a boat just as much as when I first started some years ago.

 

For me, boating is all about the journey – the simple act of passing through the landscape. Seeing, hearing, smelling (?!) the places that I’m moving through. Also, making progress at a very ‘human’ speed, being able to acknowledge other people in passing, to see a vista come into view and then change and subtly alter in perspective as you move through it. To interpret and respond to the mixture of countryside and built environment. To meet people (usually at locks) from all walks of life and chat about anything and nothing. I also like the solid feel of the boat moving easily through the water – there’s something just plain satisfying about just making the boat go (ok, so I'm odd and easily pleased)!

 

I’m not too worried about where I end up. In a sense I feel I’m taking my destination with me (food, drink, bed, telly etc is all on board) and so long as I find a mooring where I can tie up for the night without any worries then I’m ok and tomorrow holds the prospect of more travelling (unless it’s bucketing down or blowing a hurricane). Nor am I worried about covering any particular distance in a day.

 

But what are other peoples priorities? I see other boats pootling along too, but I also see some being propelled with apparent intent – in which case is it the destination that’s important (a particular favourite pub to be reached for the evening)? Or is it distance covered (the achievement of navigating a known ‘ring’ or to ‘doing’ certain canal landmarks Caen Hill, Anderton lift)? Or do folk have other reasons that attract them to boating – festivals or ad hoc gatherings?

 

Just in a mood for musing I ‘spose, it'd be nice to hear other people's boating 'smiles'.

 

LCx

 

I like the sound of ducks nibbling the boat - but not at 4.00am :)

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The bright moon, on a clear night reflected on glass like water, in the early hours . Looking out in the quiet of an early hour to see a fox on the towpath sniffing the new snow . Kingfisher sat on a frosty rope on a winter morning . A fuel boat cracking ice . Enjoying it all with someone who smiles at the same time as you do , the silent 'thank you ' smile . Bunny .

  • Greenie 1
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I love my constant amazement that I'm in what's considered a rough urban area and able to see Bham city centre from my mooring, yet we live in a serene, quiet, oasis world of greenery, wildlife and community.

 

That and the magic sound of ice creaking against the hull as I wake.

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The bright moon, on a clear night reflected on glass like water, in the early hours . Looking out in the quiet of an early hour to see a fox on the towpath sniffing the new snow . Kingfisher sat on a frosty rope on a winter morning . A fuel boat cracking ice . Enjoying it all with someone who smiles at the same time as you do , the silent 'thank you ' smile . Bunny .

 

Oooo yes the moon! - on a clear still night - I've not yet been boating on such a night but I'd love to be following the path of the moon's reflection along the cut on a calm clear night with just the occasional owl 'whooo-ing'. Thank you, you've given me something new to hope I might experience one day :)

 

... and ice

 

 

I love my constant amazement that I'm in what's considered a rough urban area and able to see Bham city centre from my mooring, yet we live in a serene, quiet, oasis world of greenery, wildlife and community.

 

That and the magic sound of ice creaking against the hull as I wake.

 

There's something quite haunting about the pinging and creaking of ice - I love it too.

 

LCx

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I had one of those quiet moments on the canal ruined once when someone went by with a supercharged 2000hp engine COMPLETELY unsilenced

Ditto, except it was an F-111 taking off with full afterburner passing just above the roof at 7am -- followed by another one. I thought the end of the world had arrived...

 

Not going to happen to anyone again though, now that Upper Heyford has closed ;-)

Edited by IanD
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But what are other peoples priorities? I see other boats pootling along too, but I also see some being propelled with apparent intent – in which case is it the destination that’s important (a particular favourite pub to be reached for the evening)? Or is it distance covered (the achievement of navigating a known ‘ring’ or to ‘doing’ certain canal landmarks Caen Hill, Anderton lift)? Or do folk have other reasons that attract them to boating – festivals or ad hoc gatherings?

 

 

One of the things that we are looking forward to now that we have bought a boat is not having to be any place in particular at any special time. Having always hired and coming as far as we do to narrowboat along the canals we have always tried to do as much as possible which is the antithesis of what is the essence of narrowboating, slowing down!

Your original post made my day.

Edited by harleyj
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Ditto, except it was an F-111 taking off with full afterburner passing just above the roof at 7am -- followed by another one. I thought the end of the world had arrived...

 

Not going to happen to anyone again though, now that Upper Heyford has closed ;-)

I my case it was a chap out for a morning spin in a spitfire

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I had one of those quiet moments on the canal ruined once when someone went by with a supercharged 2000hp engine COMPLETELY unsilenced

 

Well Mr Bunface, would you believe it, I had a similar experience in September this year, I was at Stoke Bruerne for the Village at War event. She made everyone look up and go "cor!", and smile from ear to ear smile.png

 

post-7390-0-00270100-1445611915_thumb.jpg

 

LCx

Edited by Lady Cassandra
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Just some random moments in boating that I love (in no particular order or priority) ….

 

 

Peeking out of the hatch first thing in the morning on an isolated countryside mooring – quiet sunshine greeting my upturned face – thinking ‘this moment is mine and no one else’s’.

 

Pushing gently away from the bank, pausing before engaging forward gear, and then looking back to see the first ‘cut’ of the propeller in the glass-smooth water.

 

Passing an oncoming boat – to share a conspiratorial nod and a smile in greeting, because we both know how lucky we are to be out on the water.

 

Rounding a bend to approach a lock, to meet a boat just coming out – and the gate is left open in friendly welcome.

 

Seeing a fox gingerly emerge from the bushes lockside and then we both just sit and regard each other for a long moment before going our separate ways.

 

In town, coming into a lock with a group of youngsters larking about on the balance beam – to be greeted with “can we do the gates for you?”.

 

Ruins of old canalside buildings – reclaimed by nature amidst tangles of roots and branches – fancifully trying to work out what the doorways once led to and what used to happen behind the now-glassless windows.

 

Blackberries – fat and shiny and juicy, hanging over the waterside offering themselves to passing boaters.

 

A moorhen comically pecking away at a fallen crab apple bobbing about in the water – a lot of determined effort for a small meal.

 

Leaves turning from green to autumn colours – rounding a bend as the sun comes out to be greeted by a wall-to-wall blaze of yellow-gold-red-brown autumn leaves shimmering on the trees.

 

The electric blue flash of colour that is unmistakably a Kingfisher darting ahead of the boat, keeping low and close to the edge.

 

Clear water in riverine sections – underwater forests of aquatic plants and silvery flashes of myriad fish schooling between the stems.

 

The smell of the diesel exhaust and the rhythmic sound of the engine ticking over and feeling its heartbeat through my hand on the tiller.

 

Standing in the hatchway steering, with a mug of hot tea.

 

The improbable hugeness and unlikely blueness of coots’ feet.

 

Raising the paddles to empty a lock - endless childlike wonder at the simple spectacle of the water rushing and roaring out – and then the fade to quietness as the chamber empties and the gate yields easily to my bum pushing lazily against it!

 

 

Please feel free to add your own.

 

LCx

Beautifully put. Our family situation means that,at present, we move much less than we hoped. However just coming back to the boat at night is so special. Love being on the water. Love the sounds, views etc. One thing I love is the slow changes of season. No longer four seasons but we notice the gradual changes towards each season. Love to watch the trees and hedgerows throughout the year.

And yes, tinkling ice sound is beautiful.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Going down Buckby where railway, motorway and canal run parallel and knowing which I would rather be on.

 

 

(although more often than not I am looking at the canal from the motorway wishing I wasn't on the motorway!)

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Remote waters very early in the morning during late summer or early autumn, when the mist hangs motionless over water that is like a mirror.

Much as I love this time of the day on remote parts of the system. I think it even finer, tucked up one of the remote reaches of Walton Backwaters, on the Essex coast with the only sound that of a curlew.

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