Three days on the river

 The recent three days,  Friday,  Saturday and Sunday,  on the River Great Ouse,  have been astonishingly hot.   The hottest heatwave in May for (I believe) 60 years.

Three very different boats,  one out of Jones Boatyard,  St Ives;  two out of Buckden Marina.

One boat had a straightforward outboard motor;  no complications,  no frills;  very smart and clean;  very tidy accommodation.   A trifle skittish;  we needed to watch the wind carefully especially into a narrow mooring or lock entrance.

Another had a single inboard petrol engine and a bow thruster;  totally manoeuvrable,  very controllable.   I worry a little about petrol engines because they can be tempramental.   On the river we can’t operate American sports boats at their design speeds;  cruising at tickover means that the spark plugs can foul.   A beautifully kept boat with lovely accommodation.

The third boat had twin diesel engines and again,  spacious and tidy accommodation.   When the engine controls are properly adjusted,  as these were,  twin diesels are a pleasure to operate.

Three boats,  three lovely couples.

A father and son with a brand new (to them) boat.

A husband and wife on a new adventure.

Two friends looking forward to a relaxing time on the river.

The beginning of every new training day is exciting.

The early morning drive to the marina reminds me of commuting to work (which I usually enjoyed).   The A14 is often busy;  but not over this Bank Holiday weekend.   Most of the drivers are professional and we all know what we’re doing.   Except,  of course,  the occasional lunatic hell-bent on killing all of us.

The marina staff are very pleasant and welcoming.

Have you tried the coffee at Jones Boatyard?

Both marinas sell boats.   Every new boat owner is given a demonstration and a few recommendations.   They are also given my card and many of them book a day with me.

This is where I become a little apprehensive.

What will the people be like?   What will the boat be like?

My only contact so far has been an e-mail or,  if I’m lucky,  a phone call and a follow-up e-mail.   It’s in the nature of things that new boaters don’t know what to ask for or what to expect,  so I have a list of questions and a list of things they need on the boat before we go out.

What do they need?

Lunch,  water,  heads,  fenders,  boathook,  lifejackets,  warps,  springs.

At StIves we meet at the chandlery (I mentioned the coffee).   Elsewhere I have a gate key or the gate number so we meet at the boat.

They are more apprehensive than I am.

They are about to hand over a chunk of money to an unknown old man.   He has professional qualifications and a naval or maritime background;  but is he smiley or surly?   Is he loquacious or taciturn?   Is he didactic or listening?   Is he patronising or pleasant?   Is he patient or not?

On the other hand they’ve already handed over one hundred times as much for a sleek motorised aquatic conveyance that’s quite daunting.   Maybe this old man can make today less daunting,  easier to handle,  more understandable.

As it turned out,  all three couples were charming and ready to learn.   Trust and rapport was built quickly,  in one case within seconds,  in another within the hour.

Three glorious,  exhausting,  hot days.

'New Moon'

 New Moon is a smart-looking boat,  and it’s owners are a lovely couple.

It’s kept moored in a tidy circular creek near Bottisham Lock,  and brought upriver to The Plough for hirers to board.

At The Plough it shares a mooring with Rosie,  Princess Charlotte and a couple more of Peter’s boats.   Not always a comfortable association but it works most of the time.

A year or so ago the old man had given Gary his card.   They’d chatted amicably for a few minutes and the old man had thought no more of it.

Then,  a week or two ago,  Gary had ‘phoned to talk about handing over the boat and training the hirers.

Owning a boat which you hire out is at first exciting,  but,  like all jobs,  it can become tedious.

The old man went on board at 1000 and was shown ‘the ropes’.   The multi-fuel stove in the lounge and the diesel-powered heater are very promising for chilly evenings on the fens.

The dining area seats four cozily around the table,  where the old man settled himself with a book from the well-stocked shelf.

The galley is a dream,  even for a culinary dunce like the old man.   An electric fridge,  a gas hob and oven,  pumped hot and cold water at the sink.

The heads are definitely not a perforated plank across the bowsprit;   Instead,  a sparkling electric macerated system.   The shower is pumped and,  as always,  the sump is pumped over side.

Right aft is a big double bed.

The hirers were late;  very late.   They’d come a long way,  and the dog had needed several comfort stops.

But,  at last,  the old man came into his own.   With the boat under way,  and the crew capable,  his job was delightful and easy.   Even the gongoozlers at the lock had no complaints.

The old man loves narrow boats.

They are perfectly designed for their original job of carrying goods along the canals and through the narrows.

When the rivers,  and then the canals,  were the highways of England boats up to 70ft long (but only 7ft wide) could be drawn by two galloping horses and carry 30 or 40 passengers,  or several tons of goods at  over 10mph from city to city across the country.

Forrester wrote vividly of a dash from Gloucester to London in less than 2 days,  horses changed every 20 miles or so.

Now,  passengers travel as tourists,  not traders,  and the narrowboats no longer carry sharp scythes to cut the tow ropes of slower boats.

Staunches were replaced by locks which,  especially the long staircase flights,  are marvels of 18th century engineering.   So easy to use if the boatman is patient.

Now of course,  the boats are powered by diesel (even electric) engines.   On the Cam even the locks are electric.

 There was a time when heads were simple.

A plank across the bows,  with circular holes.   Convenient in many ways.   Every time the ship dipped its head into the sea the fouling would be washed away,  both from the ship and,  presumably,  the men.   In those days sailors were almost all men.

These days the heads are much more complicated,  and they are hidden away in a tiny cubby hole below decks.

At home,  you press the button,  or the handle,  and your drinking water flushes away your waste.   On board,  you need to open seacocks,  move the lever,  operate the pump,  move the lever again,  pump again.

At home,  the system rarely blocks.   If it does,  you call a plumber and she sorts it out.   On board,   almost anything will block the heads;  the mantra has it "if you haven't eaten it,  don't put it down the heads".   The worst culprits are 'wet wipe' type things;  because they are made of cotton (or similar) they don't disintegrate in water or in the pump.   They wrap themselves around the valves,

 and they get trapped in the limescale in the pipes.   The pipes are narrower than those at home and they get blocked.

The 'limescale' is interesting (to a chemist!).   Human urine contains urate ions;  being associated with hydrogen,  sodium and potassium ions they stay dissolved.   Sea water contains calcium ions.   When urine mixes with sea water the calcium ions and urate ions combine to form calcium urate,  which is insoluble;  if left for any time in the waste pipes it precipitates on the walls of the waste pipes and gradually narrows them.   Over time the waste pipes become too narrow to pass anything that is not liquid.   Especially 'wet wipe' type things.   Less pleasant stuff,  too.

One answer,  of course is to flush properly.   The problem is partly that noise carries very well throughout a boat;  everyone can hear you pumping the heads,  especially at night.   So people tend to pump two or three times and then leave it.   It also leaves most of your waste still in the waste pipes,  where it accumulates,  settles and precipitates.   If everyone pumped 25 times (the recommended procedure) everything would end up in the sea and the pipes would be cleaned out (and everyone on the boat would be wide awake!).

When the heads become blocked you don't call a marine plumber;  do they even exist?   You leave it to the skipper.   When you own your own boat (or become a skipper of Nancy Blackett) you very quickly learn to strip down the marine heads and flush out the valves and pipes.

It's a nasty job,  but someone has to do it.