Auteur/autrice : PQOC

Publié le par

Through the Tunnels from Tardebigge to Alvechurch

Some canal journeys are remembered for their locks, landscapes or waterside villages. This one was defined by the moment daylight disappeared and Tilly Mint carried us into the hidden darkness beneath the Worcestershire countryside.

Cruising from Tardebigge towards Alvechurch took us through two historic canal tunnels, separated by a peaceful stretch of the Worcester & Birmingham Canal. It was a relatively short journey, but one filled with atmosphere, impressive engineering and the unmistakable thrill of travelling underground by narrowboat.

Leaving Tardebigge

Our journey began at Tardebigge, best known for its remarkable flight of 30 locks—the longest continuous flight in Britain.

Having previously experienced the considerable physical effort required to navigate the flight, we were pleased that today’s adventure involved a level stretch of canal. There would be no paddles to raise, heavy gates to push or hurried walks between locks. Instead, two tunnels stood between us and Alvechurch.

With Tilly Mint prepared and the tunnel light switched on, we left the wharf and headed north.

The canal was beautifully calm. Trees crowded the banks, their branches forming a leafy canopy above the water, while the surrounding countryside felt quiet and remote. It was a wonderfully peaceful beginning, although the dark entrance of Tardebigge Tunnel was already waiting ahead.

Into Tardebigge Tunnel

At approximately 580 yards long, Tardebigge Tunnel is modest compared with some of Britain’s great canal tunnels—but its entrance still appeared suitably dramatic from the deck of a narrowboat.

As Tilly Mint passed through the portal, daylight rapidly faded behind us. The warmth of the September afternoon gave way to cool, damp air, and the sound of the engine became louder as it echoed from the brick-lined walls.

Chris took the tiller, keeping the boat aligned with the distant point of daylight ahead, while Adam watched the cabin roof and tunnel sides carefully.

Travelling through a canal tunnel requires a different kind of concentration. Without the usual landmarks along the bank, judging the boat’s position becomes more difficult. The tunnel light illuminates only a small area ahead, while every sound seems magnified in the confined space.

There was something both peaceful and slightly unnerving about it. Above us, everyday life continued entirely unaware that Tilly Mint was moving slowly through the hillside below.

Back into the daylight

The far portal gradually grew larger until we emerged into brilliant daylight.

After the darkness of the tunnel, even an ordinary stretch of canal felt unexpectedly vivid. The greens appeared brighter, the sky seemed wider and the fresh air was particularly welcome.

The canal continued north through a quiet, wooded landscape. With Tardebigge Tunnel behind us, we had time to relax and enjoy the open water before reaching the second underground passage of the day.

It was not long, however, before the trees closed in again and the entrance to Shortwood Tunnel appeared ahead.

Shortwood Tunnel

At approximately 613 yards, Shortwood is slightly longer than Tardebigge Tunnel.

Once again, the tunnel swallowed the boat and the outside world disappeared. Water dripped from the roof, shadows moved across the brickwork and the engine’s steady rhythm echoed around us.

Although this was our second tunnel of the journey, the experience had lost none of its atmosphere. Each tunnel has its own character, created by the shape of its passage, the condition of its brickwork and the particular way every engine note reverberates through it.

The temptation is to focus entirely on the darkness, but there is also much to admire. These passages were created with limited machinery more than two centuries ago, allowing boats to travel through the landscape rather than negotiate steep climbs around it.

They remain working pieces of transport history—still carrying narrowboats beneath the same hills today.

Emerging towards Alvechurch

When Tilly Mint emerged from Shortwood Tunnel, we left the darkness behind for the final time.

The remaining cruise towards Alvechurch was gentle and relaxed. The canal wound through attractive countryside, passing beneath bridges and between stretches of woodland as we approached the village.

Alvechurch is one of those places that feels naturally connected to its waterway. Its pleasant moorings and welcoming pubs make it a popular stopping point, while the railway provides an unexpectedly convenient connection for anyone exploring the canal.

We found a suitable mooring, secured Tilly Mint and stepped ashore, ready for a well-earned drink.

An evening in Alvechurch

After the cool darkness of the tunnels, the warmth of the pub was particularly inviting.

We settled down over drinks and reflected on the journey. It had not involved many miles or a demanding series of locks, yet it had felt like a genuine adventure.

Canal tunnels transform an otherwise peaceful cruise into something much more atmospheric. For a few minutes, the familiar countryside disappears completely, leaving only the boat, the water and a distant opening of daylight.

Once safely moored, it was easy to enjoy the mystery of it all—without needing to worry about keeping several tonnes of narrowboat in the middle of a narrow underground passage.

Hidden history beneath the countryside

Our journey from Tardebigge to Alvechurch revealed another side of Britain’s inland waterways.

From above, the landscape appears peaceful and undisturbed. Beneath it lies an extraordinary network of historic engineering, created to carry working boats between Worcester and Birmingham and still serving boaters centuries later.

Passing through Tardebigge and Shortwood tunnels aboard Tilly Mint gave us the opportunity to experience that history rather than simply read about it.

It was a journey between two places, but also a passage between darkness and daylight, past and present, and the visible countryside and the remarkable waterway concealed beneath it.

Publié le par

A Relaxing Journey from Banbury to Thrupp

There is something wonderfully restorative about travelling slowly through the English countryside by narrowboat.

With no timetables to follow and nowhere we needed to reach quickly, our journey aboard Tilly Mint from Banbury to Thrupp offered the perfect opportunity to escape everyday life and settle into the gentle rhythm of the Oxford Canal.

It was a weekend of historic locks, peaceful moorings, beautiful countryside and the simple pleasure of spending time together on the water.

Leaving Banbury

Our journey began in Banbury, a historic market town whose prosperity was once closely connected to the wool trade and the arrival of the Oxford Canal.

Close to our starting point stood Tooley’s Boatyard, one of the oldest working dry docks on Britain’s inland waterways. With more than two centuries of boatbuilding and repair behind it, it was a fitting place from which to begin another adventure aboard Tilly Mint.

After negotiating Banbury Lock, the buildings of the town gradually receded and the canal led us into open countryside.

The change of pace was almost immediate. Traffic noise gave way to birdsong, the engine settled into its steady rhythm and the water stretched quietly ahead beneath a warm July sky.

Settling into canal time

One of the great pleasures of narrowboating is how quickly ordinary ideas about time begin to disappear.

Progress is measured not in motorway junctions or train stations but in locks, bridges and the occasional waterside pub. There is always something to do, yet very little reason to hurry.

Chris took his turn at the tiller while Adam prepared lunch aboard. Later, we found a suitable place to moor, brought out the chairs and ate beside the towpath with uninterrupted views across the surrounding countryside.

It was a simple lunch, but that was part of its charm. Food somehow tastes better outdoors after several hours on the water—particularly when accompanied by passing boats, birds in the hedgerows and the satisfaction of having nowhere else to be.

An evening near Twyford Wharf

As the afternoon drew on, we reached the quiet stretch around Twyford Wharf and found a peaceful place to spend the night.

Once an important canal wharf, the location is now a tranquil stopping point surrounded by rural Oxfordshire. After the engine was switched off, the silence returned almost instantly.

We spent the evening talking, watching the light fade across the water and enjoying the wonderfully uncomplicated nature of life aboard Tilly Mint. There were ropes to check and tomorrow’s route to consider, but otherwise the evening belonged entirely to us.

The towpath became quieter, the canal settled and the boat gently moved against its mooring as darkness fell.

Through the Oxfordshire countryside

The following morning, we continued south towards Aynho.

This section of the Oxford Canal follows a wonderfully meandering course through open countryside. Rather than cutting directly through the landscape, it curves around fields and follows the natural contours of the land, revealing a fresh view around almost every bend.

Adam kept his camera close, capturing the wildlife, historic brick bridges and passing narrowboats. Herons watched from the bank while ducks appeared entirely unconcerned by our presence—until deciding, at the last possible moment, to cross directly in front of the boat.

The route brought us to Aynho Weir Lock, an unusual diamond-shaped lock where the canal connects with the River Cherwell. Its broad central chamber provides additional capacity to accommodate the changing water levels created by the river.

It was another reminder that even the most peaceful canal journey depends upon centuries of engineering, maintenance and careful water management.

The final approach to Thrupp

From Aynho, we continued south through the Oxfordshire countryside towards Thrupp.

By this point, we had settled completely into life aboard. Steering, locks, ropes and cups of tea formed the pattern of the day, while the landscape moved past at walking pace.

There was no desire to arrive any sooner than necessary. The journey itself had become the purpose of the weekend.

Eventually, the attractive moorings of Thrupp came into view. Narrowboats lined the water’s edge, walkers passed along the towpath and the village possessed the relaxed atmosphere that makes it one of the Oxford Canal’s most popular stopping places.

We brought Tilly Mint alongside, secured the ropes and stepped ashore to explore.

A warm welcome at The Boat Inn

After several days on the canal, a hearty meal at The Boat Inn felt thoroughly deserved.

Situated beside the water in the heart of Thrupp, the pub provided a cosy conclusion to our journey. Over food and drinks, we looked back over the miles travelled, the locks negotiated and the quiet moments that had made the trip so enjoyable.

Nothing dramatic had happened. There had been no navigational crisis, mechanical disaster or unexpected encounter with dense fog. Instead, the journey had given us something equally memorable: time to slow down, enjoy each other’s company and appreciate the landscape through which we were travelling.

Sometimes the best adventures are the peaceful ones.

Rediscovering the pleasure of slow travel

Our journey from Banbury to Thrupp was about far more than moving a narrowboat between two places.

It was an opportunity to experience the Oxford Canal as it was meant to be enjoyed: slowly and without unnecessary urgency. We had time to notice the wildlife, admire the bridges, pause beside the towpath and watch the countryside unfold around us.

Trips like this remind us why the waterways hold such a special place in our lives. They offer freedom without speed, adventure without pressure and a connection to both landscape and history that is difficult to find elsewhere.

By the time we reached Thrupp, we felt rested, reconnected and already reluctant to leave Tilly Mint behind.

The Oxford Canal had once again demonstrated that travelling slowly does not make a journey less interesting. It simply gives you more time to enjoy it.

Publié le par

A Weekend in Thrupp and Classic Cars at Blenheim Palace

Some weekends offer peaceful days on the water. Others promise spectacular locations, historic surroundings and rows of beautifully preserved classic cars.

This weekend managed to combine both.

With Tilly Mint moored beside the Oxford Canal at Thrupp, we enjoyed the tranquillity of one of Oxfordshire’s best-known canalside villages before heading to Blenheim Palace for its Classic Car Show. It was a wonderful combination of relaxed boating life and magnificent British motoring heritage.

A peaceful morning in Thrupp

Thrupp is the sort of place that seems perfectly suited to the gentle pace of canal life.

The Oxford Canal passes quietly through the village, bordered by moored narrowboats, leafy towpaths and welcoming waterside pubs. With Tilly Mint safely moored, there was no need to rush anywhere. We could simply enjoy being beside the water and watch the canal gradually come to life.

Boats passed at an unhurried pace while walkers and cyclists made their way along the towpath. It was a pleasantly slow beginning to the day and a welcome contrast to the considerably more polished machinery awaiting us later.

Before leaving, there was time to explore the village and enjoy the atmosphere around the canal. Thrupp may be small, but its character, attractive moorings and proximity to Oxford make it a particularly memorable stopping place.

From narrowboats to classic cars

After a relaxing morning, we exchanged the waterways for the grandeur of Blenheim Palace.

The journey from Thrupp was short, but the surroundings could hardly have been more different. Instead of towpaths, lock gates and narrowboats, we were greeted by sweeping parkland, monumental architecture and an extraordinary collection of classic vehicles.

Even before reaching the show, the approach to Blenheim Palace felt suitably impressive. The magnificent house and Capability Brown landscape provided a backdrop capable of making even the most glamorous classic car work hard for attention.

It was an ideal setting for a celebration of motoring history.

Classic motoring in a magnificent setting

The show brought together an enormous variety of vehicles, from elegant British classics to distinctive American cars and much-loved models that immediately transported their admirers back to another era.

Rows of beautifully presented cars filled the grounds, their chrome gleaming and paintwork polished to near perfection. Some represented the height of motoring luxury, while others were cherished everyday cars that had survived long enough to become part of Britain’s social history.

Adam was in his element, stopping to examine particular models and discussing their finer details. Each row revealed something new: familiar badges, unusual designs and vehicles that had clearly benefited from many hours of devoted restoration.

That was part of the pleasure of the event. These were not simply machines placed on display. Every vehicle had a history, and many had an owner who was delighted to explain its restoration, peculiarities and place in their life.

Chris, meanwhile, could appreciate the elegance of the cars while also enjoying the spectacular surroundings. With Blenheim Palace rising beyond the displays, almost every view offered an irresistible photograph.

A celebration of preservation

Although narrowboats and classic cars may initially appear to belong to different worlds, the day revealed how much they have in common.

Both inspire devoted communities of enthusiasts. Both require considerable maintenance and practical knowledge. Most importantly, both allow people to experience history as something living rather than something confined to a museum.

A historic narrowboat travelling along the Oxford Canal and a lovingly restored car crossing the Blenheim estate each preserve a small but important part of Britain’s story.

The show celebrated not only beautiful vehicles but also the dedication of the people who keep them running. Their enthusiasm was infectious, even if it left us wondering whether maintaining one narrowboat might ultimately prove sufficient.

Returning to Tilly Mint

After an afternoon surrounded by polished chrome, powerful engines and grand architecture, returning to Tilly Mint felt wonderfully peaceful.

The activity of the show gave way once again to the quiet rhythm of the Oxford Canal. As evening settled over Thrupp, the water became still and the moored boats formed dark reflections beneath the fading sky.

That contrast made the day particularly memorable. We had begun beside the canal, spent the afternoon among some remarkable examples of motoring history and returned to the comfort of the boat as daylight disappeared.

There was time to reflect on our favourite cars, the scale of Blenheim Palace and whether any vehicle at the show could truly compete with the character of Tilly Mint.

We may have been slightly biased.

The best of both worlds

Our weekend in Thrupp offered a perfect mixture of relaxation, heritage and adventure.

Life aboard Tilly Mint gave us the freedom to slow down and enjoy the Oxford Canal, while the Classic Car Show provided colour, excitement and an impressive glimpse into Britain’s motoring past.

It was another reminder that a narrowboat journey is about far more than travelling along the water. Mooring in the right place can open the door to historic houses, special events and experiences well beyond the towpath.

One day we were admiring narrowboats on the Oxford Canal; the next, classic cars beneath the towers of Blenheim Palace. It was an unlikely combination—but an exceptionally enjoyable one.

Publié le par

Cruising Down the River Lee Navigation

After our first memorable adventure aboard Tilly Mint, we were delighted to return for another journey with Neil and Naomi—this time cruising south along the River Lee Navigation towards London’s Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park.

The day began under encouraging blue skies, but the closer we came to London, the greyer the weather became. Before long, the sunshine had disappeared entirely, replaced by persistent rain and the unmistakable feeling that spring had reconsidered its arrival.

Fortunately, a wet day on the waterways is still a day on the waterways.

Setting off aboard Tilly Mint

With Neil at the helm and Naomi keeping a watchful eye on proceedings, we set off aboard Tilly Mint.

There is a calming rhythm to travelling by narrowboat. The gentle movement of the water, the steady hum of the engine and the changing scenery encourage you to slow down and enjoy the journey rather than rush towards the destination.

Initially, the weather appeared to be on our side. The riverbanks looked fresh and green, the water was calm and the journey ahead promised a relaxing day’s cruising.

Then the clouds gathered.

Cruising through the rain

By the time the rain arrived, it had clearly committed itself to the entire day.

The light drizzle soon became persistent, indifferent rain—the sort that ignores waterproof clothing, finds its way down the back of your neck and makes anyone standing at the helm question the fairness of enclosed steering positions.

Neil remained remarkably calm as he guided Tilly Mint along the navigation. Naomi stayed close beside him, offering loyal companionship and, presumably, silent moral support. Whether she was also judging everyone who had chosen to remain inside remains unknown.

The soft patter of rain on the roof became the soundtrack to our journey. Occasionally, it was interrupted by the call of a waterbird, the engine changing note or the splash of rain striking the river’s surface.

Where countryside meets the city

One of the pleasures of the Lee Navigation is the way its surroundings gradually change.

We passed stretches bordered by reeds, trees and pockets of greenery, where herons stood motionless at the water’s edge and the city felt surprisingly distant. Elsewhere, bridges, warehouses and remnants of the area’s industrial past revealed the waterway’s long connection with the growth of London.

The transition was gradual rather than sudden. Nature, industry and modern regeneration sat alongside one another, each contributing a different layer to the landscape.

Even beneath heavy grey skies, there was plenty to see. Trees and buildings shimmered in broken reflections, their shapes distorted by the rain and the movement of Tilly Mint. The muted colours gave the navigation an atmospheric, almost watercolour-like appearance.

Approaching the Olympic Park

As we continued south, the unmistakable structures of the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park began to appear.

Only seven years earlier, this part of East London had welcomed the world for the 2012 Olympic and Paralympic Games. Arriving by water offered a very different perspective from approaching by road or rail. Modern landmarks rose above a historic navigation that had carried boats through the area for generations.

It was a striking contrast: the slow, traditional pace of a narrowboat set against one of London’s most prominent areas of modern regeneration.

Despite the rain, there was something special about reaching the Olympic Park aboard Tilly Mint. We had watched the landscape evolve around us, from quieter green stretches to an unmistakably urban waterway, all at the wonderfully unhurried pace of canal travel.

The simple pleasure of slow travel

By the end of the journey, the weather had tested both our waterproofs and Neil’s endurance at the helm. Yet the rain had not spoilt the day. If anything, it had given the cruise a character of its own.

Travelling slowly allows you to notice the details that would otherwise pass unnoticed: a heron among the reeds, an old industrial building beside the water, rain dancing across the surface or a famous London landmark gradually emerging ahead.

That is one of the great pleasures of narrowboating. The destination matters, but the journey is never simply the space between where you started and where you planned to finish.

We arrived damp but content, having enjoyed another memorable day aboard Tilly Mint. We would not have changed a thing—although Neil, after spending hours exposed to the rain at the helm, might reasonably have requested better weather, a hot drink and a considerably longer break.

Publié le par

Our First Trip on Tilly Mint – An Unforgettable Adventure

Long before Priscilla, Queen of the Canal became our dream, another narrowboat gave us our first real taste of life on the waterways.

Our first trip aboard Tilly Mint, Nail and Naomi’s new narrowboat, was intended to be a peaceful autumn escape along the Kennet and Avon Canal. For most of the day, that was exactly what it was. But as anyone familiar with boating will know, the canal does not always follow the plan.

Setting off

We joined Nail and Naomi aboard their beautiful new boat with considerable excitement. There is something particularly special about stepping onto a narrowboat for the first time: exploring every corner, learning where everything is kept and imagining all the journeys that lie ahead.

We set off along the Kennet and Avon Canal in high spirits. The autumn colours reflected beautifully on the water, while the steady rhythm of the engine provided a calming soundtrack to the journey.

Chris, Adam, Nail and Naomi spent the day catching up, enjoying the scenery and gradually settling into the unhurried pace of canal life. The waterway wound through the landscape beneath overhanging trees, past towpaths and moored boats, carrying us gently towards our planned evening stop.

It was peaceful, sociable and wonderfully relaxing—everything we had hoped our first trip aboard Tilly Mint would be.

As the light began to fade

Our plan was to moor near The Cunning Man, where the promise of a warm pub and a good evening meal awaited us.

As daylight faded, however, a thick mist began rising from the water. At first, it added an atmospheric quality to the canal, softening the surrounding landscape and making the autumn evening feel almost magical.

Then it became thicker.

The canal banks began to disappear. Trees became shadowy outlines and moored boats emerged from the gloom with very little warning. Before long, visibility had fallen to around 50 yards—and our peaceful cruise had become a much more demanding exercise in navigation.

The canal ahead resembled a mysterious passage through the fog. Unfortunately, mysterious passages are rather less romantic when you are responsible for steering several tonnes of narrowboat through them.

All hands on deck

Adam took up position at the bow, peering through the mist for signs of the canal bank, mooring posts, overhanging branches and other boats.

His job was to relay clear and helpful directions to the helm.

That was the theory, at least.

“Left! Left!”

A pause followed as another indistinct shape emerged from the fog.

“No—right! Go right! HARD RIGHT!”

What had started as a serene autumn cruise had become an improvised team navigation exercise. Directions were shouted along the boat, hazards appeared with little warning and everyone tried to determine whether a dark shape ahead was a tree, a moored narrowboat or simply more mist.

There were tense moments, but there was also something exhilarating about it. We were working together, responding to the canal and discovering that boating could be unpredictable, challenging and enormous fun—all within the space of a few foggy minutes.

Reaching The Cunning Man

Eventually, the welcoming lights of our destination appeared through the mist.

After carefully bringing Tilly Mint alongside, we secured the ropes and switched off the engine. The sudden quiet was accompanied by a collective sense of relief: we had made it.

Stepping from the cold, damp towpath into the warmth of The Cunning Man felt particularly satisfying. The stress of the final approach quickly began to fade as we settled around the table and looked forward to dinner.

Food always seems to taste better after a day on the water, but that evening it felt especially well earned. Over drinks and hearty pub fare, we replayed the journey and laughed about Adam’s increasingly urgent directions from the bow.

What had felt tense in the mist had already become a story—and one we knew would be told again.

The beginning of something special

Our first journey aboard Tilly Mint gave us far more than a pleasant weekend away. It offered an early glimpse of everything we would come to love about narrowboating: the slower pace, the changing landscape, the companionship and the unexpected moments that turn an ordinary journey into an adventure.

The mist had made the final stretch difficult, but it had also made the experience unforgettable. It reminded us that the best boating memories are not always created when everything goes perfectly. Often, they emerge from the diversions, surprises and moments of mild chaos along the way.

Looking back, that foggy evening feels like an important early chapter in our waterways story. It strengthened friendships, introduced us to the realities of life aboard a narrowboat and left us eager to return.

Here’s to many more adventures aboard Tilly Mint—although, next time, perhaps with a little less mist and slightly more consistent directions from the bow.

Publié le par

A Journey Down Memory Lane: Our First Canal Trip Together

Long before Priscilla—and before many of the adventures that would shape our love of the waterways—there was a hire boat on the River Thames.

In November 2011, before we were married or had moved to Sussex, we joined our good friends Dan and Jeff for our first canal and river trip together.

None of us could have known quite where that first journey might eventually lead.

Setting out on the Thames

The November air was crisp as we settled aboard and began following the Thames.

It was our first experience of cruising together: the gentle rhythm of the engine, the changing riverside scenery and the simple pleasure of travelling without any need to hurry.

We soon found our rhythm, helped by plenty of laughter and light-hearted banter between the four of us.

As we passed Windsor, the castle rose above the surrounding landscape. Framed by the golden colours of late autumn and reflected in the calm water, it gave the journey an appropriately grand backdrop.

For two people just beginning to discover boating together, it was difficult to imagine a better introduction.

An evening in Bray

We moored near Bray with something particularly special planned for the evening: dinner at Heston Blumenthal’s celebrated restaurant, The Fat Duck.

The meal was far more than dinner. Every course brought another surprise, combining unexpected flavours, textures and theatrical touches into an experience unlike anything we had encountered before.

Just as memorable was the company. Sitting around the table with Dan and Jeff, sharing stories and laughter, transformed an extraordinary meal into a cherished memory.

It remains one of those rare evenings that still feels vivid many years later.

More than our first boating holiday

Looking back, the trip represented much more than a weekend on the Thames.

We were not yet married. Sussex had not yet become home. Many of the plans that would shape our life together were still only ideas.

The journey gave us a first glimpse of something that would become increasingly important: the pleasure of travelling slowly, experiencing the landscape from the water and sharing an adventure with people we cared about.

Many more boating holidays would follow, but this was where our story on the waterways began.

The beginning of something

Our first trip together contained beautiful scenery, excellent food, close friendship and the excitement of discovering an entirely new way to travel.

At the time, it was simply a memorable weekend.

Looking back from everything that followed, it feels more like the beginning of something.

Publié le par

A Flooded Thames and a Piggyback on the London Loop

Long before Priscilla, Queen of the Canal became our dream, Chris and I were already finding our happiest moments beside the water.

One of our earliest adventures together was an urban75 walk along the London Loop near Richmond. What should have been a straightforward autumn walk became considerably more memorable when the Thames burst its banks—and my choice of trainers proved spectacularly inadequate.

Fortunately, Chris had both walking boots and a solution.

Exploring the London Loop

The London Loop circles the edge of Greater London, linking parks, woodland, riversides and historic settlements into one remarkably varied walking route.

It can take you from busy suburban streets into peaceful countryside within minutes. On this particular section near Richmond, the Thames provided a beautiful backdrop to the walk—and, as we soon discovered, an unexpected obstacle.

Chris and I set out looking forward to a relaxed day of walking with the urban75 group. We had already enjoyed several adventures together, but were still at the beginning of the much longer journey our lives would eventually take.

I had arrived wearing trainers, confidently assuming that the paths would be reasonably firm and well maintained. Chris had made the considerably wiser decision to wear proper walking boots.

That difference would shortly become important.

When the Thames joined the path

As we approached the river, it became clear that the Thames had burst its banks.

Water had spread across sections of the route, covering the path and turning an ordinary riverside walk into an improvised obstacle course. What had once been solid ground was now hidden beneath cold, murky water.

Some stretches could be negotiated by carefully stepping around the edges. Others offered no dry alternative at all.

Chris’s boots were sturdy enough to cope. My trainers most certainly were not.

They might have survived a shallow puddle, but they had not been designed for wading through the Thames. I was faced with the prospect of soaking wet feet for the remainder of the walk—or finding a more inventive way across.

The piggyback solution

Chris assessed the flooded path and proposed the only practical solution: I would have to climb onto his back.

It was hardly the dignified image of two capable outdoor adventurers, but it was considerably better than spending the rest of the day with trainers full of river water.

Laughing at the absurdity of the situation, I climbed aboard. Chris then carried me through the flooded section while carefully feeling for the submerged path beneath his boots.

For a brief moment, our peaceful walk had become a particularly low-budget river crossing expedition.

There was every possibility that Chris might slip, leaving both of us sitting in the Thames. Instead, he successfully delivered me to dry ground with my trainers—and dignity, just about—intact.

What could easily have become a frustrating interruption instead became the defining memory of the day.

An early adventure together

Looking back, the flooded path seems like a small incident. Yet it captured something important about our relationship even then.

We enjoyed being outdoors, exploring new places and spending time together. When plans changed, we adapted. When something went wrong, we usually found a way to laugh about it.

The day was not memorable because everything went perfectly. It stayed with us because it did not.

There was no need for a grand destination or meticulously planned experience. A walk beside the Thames, an unexpectedly flooded path and a piggyback were enough to create a story we would still be telling years later.

Drawn to the water

At the time, neither of us could have known how important Britain’s waterways would eventually become to us.

We were simply enjoying a walk beside the river. There was no carefully developed plan for a narrowboat, no Priscilla, Queen of the Canal and no vision of the boating adventures that would follow.

Yet, looking back, the clues were already there.

We loved the countryside, enjoyed travelling slowly and were repeatedly drawn towards rivers and canals. Most importantly, we loved experiencing those places together.

That walk on the London Loop now feels like a small but significant part of our waterways story: an early adventure in which the water refused to remain politely beside the path.

A glimpse of what lay ahead

Life rarely announces its important moments while they are happening.

That day near Richmond did not feel like the beginning of anything. It was simply an enjoyable walk with an unexpected complication—and a very funny solution.

Only with hindsight can we see how naturally it fits into the story that followed. Our shared love of walking, water and slightly chaotic adventures would eventually lead to narrowboat holidays, journeys across Britain’s canals and the dream of creating our own life afloat.

The flooded Thames did not reveal our future. But it may have offered a small glimpse of it.

And if our life together was always destined to involve unpredictable waterways, teamwork and occasional indignity, that piggyback was excellent preparation.

Publié le par

A Love for Waterways: Adam’s Early Days with the National Trust

Long before Priscilla, Queen of the Canal became a shared dream, Adam’s connection with Britain’s waterways had already begun.

His fascination started at an early age. There was something irresistible about the combination of peaceful water, working locks, towpaths and centuries of history. The waterways offered both an escape into the countryside and a glimpse of the extraordinary network that once helped power Britain.

But Adam did not simply want to enjoy these special places—he wanted to help protect them.

From appreciation to action

At the age of 19, Adam began volunteering with the National Trust on the River Wey and Godalming Navigations in Surrey. His work took him to Newark Lock, one of the most picturesque locations on the navigation, overlooked by the atmospheric ruins of Newark Priory.

Volunteering meant practical, physical work. Adam helped cut back vegetation, clear overgrown areas and maintain the towpaths so they remained safe and accessible for walkers, boaters and everyone who came to enjoy the waterway.

Armed with tools—and usually faced with considerably more undergrowth than expected—the volunteers worked together to keep this historic landscape open and welcoming.

It could be tiring and occasionally muddy, but it was immensely rewarding. At the end of each session, Adam could look back along a cleared towpath and see the difference the team had made.

A different relationship with the waterways

Working beside the River Wey gave Adam a new appreciation of what it takes to care for Britain’s navigable waterways.

The tranquillity experienced by visitors does not happen by accident. Behind every clear towpath, functioning lock and well-maintained stretch of navigation are people carrying out practical conservation work—often supported by dedicated volunteers giving their time in all weathers.

That experience changed Adam’s relationship with the waterways. They were no longer simply beautiful places to visit; they became living pieces of history that needed active care and protection.

The people behind the work

One of the most enjoyable parts of volunteering was the sense of community.

The group brought together people of different ages and backgrounds, each with their own reason for being there. Some were passionate about boats and waterways, while others simply wanted to support a special local place. What united them was a willingness to work together and make a visible difference.

Conversations flowed as readily as the river—although usually with occasional interruptions for stubborn branches, tangled brambles and the important matter of tea.

Those shared days demonstrated something that would remain important to Adam: waterways are not only about boats or destinations. They are also about the communities that form around them.

Where the journey began

Looking back, Adam’s time at Newark Lock was an early chapter in a much bigger story.

The experience strengthened his interest in conservation, volunteering and the heritage of Britain’s waterways. It also helped establish a connection that would continue through later boating holidays, further volunteering adventures and, eventually, the ambitious plan to build a new fully electric narrowboat with a backup diesel generator.

Priscilla may still lie ahead, but the journey towards her began many years ago—beside the River Wey, with a pair of clippers, a stretch of overgrown towpath and a determination to leave a special place a little better than he found it.