Sunday 29 December 2013

A diabolical lack of water points in London and the conflict this can cause.


I don’t like people telling me what to do.

Does anyone?

I doubt many of us have ever said, “I’m never happier than when I’m ordered around and I don’t have the freedom to make my own decisions. I love it!” 

Actually, this can work well behind the bedroom door so  - to clarify - I am talking about those aspects of living that are removed from sexual expression.

Obviously, no-one likes to be told what to do or how to live their lives. That’s why laws & rules, conflicts & wars exist. Left to our own devices, in a world without consequences, each of us would spend our days doing pretty much what we want, when we want, how we want and with whoever we want. 

Life cannot always be like that though.

On a recent blog, I mentioned that - when heading west from Little Venice - the next opportunity to fill up with water is 4 cruising hours away in Greenford. It could be argued that I should stop whinging and invest in a 12 mile hosepipe but - I’m a demanding sort - and for the £800 plus I pay for my annual waterways license, I’d like to to see a small part of it used to stick a couple more taps into the ground. This would not just be for my benefit. If my wish was granted, other idealist boaters who like to rinse after brushing their teeth or flush their toilet, would be able to use these taps too.

To illustrate the staggering challenge faced by London boaters when it comes to getting water, here’s a quick anecdote.....

A few months ago, on the way to Oxford, I took a detour down the Leicester arm of the Grand Union. After 10 hours of narrow, winding countryside, I took a further detour, down an even more windy and narrow section, where I ended up in the sleepy town of Market Harborough, approximately 18 miles southwest of Emerald City. 

Where  I was moored, alongside the towpath, I was staggered to see that there were taps roughly every 20 metres. The same was true in nearby Foxton. Every visiting boat had its own water supply. 

Collectively, Market Harborough and Foxton have more designated water points for itinerant boaters than central London does.

.... So, some time ago, I was drifting into Little Venice with an empty water tank. My curtains had been closed all morning out of concern that - if  anyone saw me cleaning the toilet with Sunny Delight whilst my frothing mouth caused toothpaste to dribble down my chin - they’d  report me to Customs for having Rabies. 

At Little Venice, as usual, the main water point was being used. On this occasion, two other boats were already in line before me. I could expect to wait 3 or 4 hours before my turn. However, just behind the water point, another boat was leaning against a permanently moored cafe-barge and its hosepipe looked to be connected to another tap. 

Oh! Was there a 2nd tap?

I pulled up alongside as the boater was finishing up. It was perfect timing.

“I didn’t know about this one,” I said, excitedly. “Is it private or something?”

“It’s a public tap,” he replied, “We  have every right to use it - but  HE  is going to give you a hard time!” He gestured towards a man on the towpath who was scowling in my direction. 

The other boat reversed out and I pulled in, resting the stern against the floating cafe and swinging my bow towards the towpath. It was a little precarious but I got the front tied up to some railings. This mysterious other tap - although not clearly marked - was indeed another public facility. I wondered why I had not known about it before.

As I was unravelling my hose, the scowling man came over. 

“There’s a proper tap THERE,” he began. He sounded posh, which - even though I sometimes sound too -  irritated the hell out of me. Instinctively, I decided that he was an over-privileged twat and that I was a far better person than him. He pointed at the other tap with the 4 hour queue.

“This is a proper tap,” I replied. 

I demonstrated by turning the tap. Some water poured out and landed on my shoe,  causing me to feel a little awkward. “Proper tap,” I repeated, unconvincingly.

“But the trouble is that we are making teas on here,” he continued, pointing to the barge that my boat was resting alongside, “And if your boat bangs against ours, boiling water is liable to spill out and burn the staff or customers. It creates a healthy and safety issue.”

I forgot about my wet foot.

“I appreciate you letting me know,” I responded, politely, “I’ll be as a careful as I can.”

His tone switched. 

“Why can’t you just use THAT one?” he snapped.

My tone switched too.

“Because I want to use this one!”

“But why?

“Because there are 2 other boats waiting there and it will take over 3 hours.”

“That’s not my problem!” he said. 

As if that was going to persuade me.

He sighed, composed himself a little and continued.

“Look, if you stay here, another boat will come along and - once you have finished - that boat will also  lean against us  and this will continue all day.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, “That’s what I just did.”

“We’re running a business here, “ he said. “I don’t want boats leaning against us all day.”

Occasionally, when I feel challenged, I experience a moment of clarity. In the past, in a situation like this, I would perhaps have been fearful, backed down and mumbled something semi-coherent in a poor attempt to protect my position and dignity. Nowadays,  anger sometimes tends to focus my mind and I become more articulate. 

Like all curses, hypertension has its silver linings. From deep in my abdomen, I felt the aggression rise. 

“If that’s really your issue, stop talking to me,” I jabbed. “It’s because of YOU that I haven’t started to fill up yet. The quicker I start, the quicker I’ll be gone.”

He stayed silent. glaring at me with contempt. 

Sensing that I had taken the advantage, I pressed on.

“If that is really your biggest worry, go away. I’m not going to be able to start filling up until you have stopped talking to me.”

“Well now you’re just being beligerant,” he said, but his voice had lost its authority.

“If you feel that I should not be here, make a complaint,” I said.

“But I am,” he squealed, in what sounded like fake triumph, “I am complaining to you!”

“And I’m not going to give you what you want,” I replied, “You might be able to get your way with some people but badgering them like this but you’re not going to get your way with me.  It’s not going to happen.”

Somehow, I’d started to feel comfortable with the strength of my position. He must have sensed it too. He looked down and I went in for the kill.

“Actually, your boat is blocking a public water point,” I said, “I’m the one who has the right to be complaining. You’re not allowed to block a water point.”

He walked away,  I connected my hose and - for the next hour - paced up and down on the inside of my boat while my water tank slowly filled. 

I was seething for about 3 days, convinced that this was a case of a privileged boat owner ,lucky enough to have secured a permanent position in one of London’s most prestigious locations, with an ‘I’m alright Jack, screw you,’  attitude towards other less privileged boaters. This ‘boiling water’ safety nonsense had clearly been an excuse. Otherwise why had the focus of his complaint kept switching around? In all probability, the real story was that he didn’t want other boats leaning against his because it looked untidy and was an inconvenience.

Once I’d had time to reflect, however, my mindset mellowed and I realised that this was probably not be the full story. 

The cafe boat had been moored there for many years. That much I knew. Had this public tap only recently been fitted though? Which came first? 

If the barge had arrived first, why had a public tap been fitted so close to it? 

If the tap was there first, why had the barge been sold a mooring which was adjacent to a public water point?

Somewhere along the line, an act of incompetence or negligence had taken place. The confrontation that I have described here was a symptom of that act, an expression of an underlying frustration that exists in an overcrowded and under-resourced waterways system. The encounter had reinforced for me how scarce and inadequate the facilities available to London boaters are. If there were more taps, there would have been no need for this conflict to have arisen. This would never happen in Market Harborough.

Once I’d fully calmed down and processed the experience. I found myself with some sympathy for my nemesis. Ultimately, I needed water and my survival needs were more important to me than he was. However, we all have our values and - in the process of taking care of mine - I had disregarded his. This was not a regret, as such, merely an observation and an attempt to be truthful & objective (although I understand that my role in the confrontation disqualifies me from being completely so). Sometimes, this is what it means to be human. Not everything is about compromise.

Had I been selfish? 

If I had, was I in the wrong? 

When Is it OK to be selfish?

I thought of Abraham Maslow and his hierarchy of needs. 


My need - water - would be at the base of Maslow’s pyramid, an expression of the most basic biological and physiological requirement for human survival. 

His needs -  comfort, independence, dominance and prestige - were less critical priorities, probably ‘esteem’ related, which appears near the peak of Maslow’s pyramid. 

In plain talk, my needs trumped his and, arguably, it was he that had been selfish by not showing empathy for my greater struggle. 

All that said, assuming this is a regular occurrence, I do have some sympathy for his frustration. 

Is it reasonable to expect anyone to wait 3 hours for water when an unused public tap is waiting less than 20 feet away? Of course not. 

But is it reasonable to expect a boater who is paying to run a business to have other boats mooring up alongside all day long?  That doesn’t seem fair either.

The experience raised, for me, the need for CRT to examine and re-evaluate where the  current waterways’ priorities are. To their credit, very recently, some of the water points have been upgraded. The main one at Little Venice, for example, which for years had operated at a slow, dripping pace akin to Chinese water torture has just been changed and now flows at a good pressure. It’s a step in the right direction. It means that every boat is able to fill up far more quickly than before, thus reducing the waiting time for other boats. 

I do feel grateful for this. 

But why am I grateful? 

Is this really a luxury for which I should feel gratitude?

Or is this a basic human entitlement that I should expect my boat license to cover me for?

My aforementioned gratitude worries me! It tells me that - since I moved onto the waterways - I have lowered my expectations too much.

So now I’m raising them again. 

Yes, I believe boaters - in London especially - are entitled to better facilities than those currently available. This isn’t a third world country and we do not live in the 18th century. 

Late in 2013, an investigation by the London Assembly into the waterways around London concluded that there was an urgent need for improved boaters’ facilities around London. and recommended that CRT make this a priority. CRT’s response, unhelpfully, was that this would be “challenging.” 

I do not accept that adding more water points to this over crowded, under resourced city is an unrealistic challenge. If Market Harborough can manage it, so can London. If I’m missing a point here, I’d  really like to know what it is.

Joel - December 29th, 2013.




Monday 23 December 2013

London Moorings, facilities.... and my boat's first Parking Ticket.


Last week, whilst moored up in Little Venice, I returned to my boat to find a sealed message from CRT (The Canals & Rivers Trust) tied onto my back door. Ever the optimist, my open heart told me it must be a Xmas greeting or a note to commend me on the quality of my bowline. It turned out, however, to be my first Patrol Notice (boatspeak for parking ticket).

This is my first winter on the cut.

Before I get into the meat of this blog, for curious land based readers, ‘The Cut’ broadly refers to the open, public sections of the waterways (rather than a private marina).  If you walk your dog along the towpath and see boats moored up alongside the bank of the canal, the owners, unless it’s an abandoned wreck or a pleasure trip, are probably living on the cut. I am one of those.

Some boaters choose to live on the cut for financial reasons; some enjoy the pleasures and challenges of a nomadic lifestyle; others wish to avoid the sense of restriction and institutionalization that often comes with being in a marina. 

You need a license to keep a boat on the water and the cost of that license depends on the length of your vessel. Mine comes in at just over £800 a year. In return for that, if I choose to live on the cut, The British Waterways Act of 1995 requires that I move every 14 days and CRT are the body responsible for enforcing that requirement.

I have previously lived in marinas  - initially on a full time basis whilst I figured out what I was doing - and then - out of fear for my wellbeing - during the winter months only. However, having just completed an 8 month jolly through Leicestershire, Oxford & The  Mighty Thames, I felt ready to face a winter on the cut. So far, it’s been fine. I’ve had the privilege of living around London, made some lovely new boater friends and upped the level of my boating game. 

The main challenges of the cut - especially in the winter - are (a) Filling up your fresh water tank (b) Emptying your toilet (c) Finding a new mooring spot when you comply with the requirement to move every 14 days.

When my water tank is full, I have enough water to last just over 2 weeks. Consequently, the 14 day rule works organically well for me. Every 2 weeks, when it’s time to move, I untie my ropes, fill up with water, find a new spot and the cycle of boating life continues.

So, back to this patrol notice.

I had been in Little Venice for 2 weeks and was heading east. There were a couple of problems though. The first was that the locks at Camden were being repaired. As a consequence of this, no boats were able to travel through Camden in either direction. The system was at something of a standstill.

When I was due to move, I drove to the Little Venice water point to fill up and then made my way to the next mooring location which was Paddington basin. There was just one spot available but, when I arrived, what I think was a wake boarding race was about to take place and the sole vacant pontoon was being used as the competitors’ point of entry to the water.  I was told I could take that spot as soon as the race was over and was asked to wait at the rear end of the basin for the event to end. I tied myself temporarily to another boat, bought myself a coffee from the M & S cafe and, within an hour, I was moored at the only free pontoon in the basin. 

I then spotted a laminated sign tied to one of the mooring rings. “WINTER MOORING” accompanied by the name of another boat for which, presumably, the space was being held.

Before I got too comfortable, I called CRT to ask about my new spot. The girl I spoke to had no record of it being a winter mooring and said I would be OK to stay there. 

Ten minutes later, the boat whose name matched the one on the laminated sign, pulled up alongside mine.  Contrary to the advice given to me by CRT, the boater on board had indeed paid them an additional premium for the right to stay there. He’d disappeared for a few hours to fill up with water.

There were no other spots in the basin. I vacated the spot and was effectively homeless .... and irritated. 

I am fed up with boaters telling me, “You have to have a sense of humour to be a boater.” Everyone has a sense of humour. There is a time and a place for all senses and this was a time and a place for exasperation, not for pondering why the chicken crossed the road.

In heavy rain, I drove back to Little Venice - where there were a few open spaces - and grabbed myself a new spot there, double moored on the outside of another narrowboat.

I had complied with my requirement to move after 14 days. On this occasion, however, I had moved back to the origin of my journey. 

2 days later I received the patrol notice, telling me to move within 24 hours or incur fines for overstaying.

The CRT enforcer had written her mobile number on the notice, something I think all traffic wardens should be legally required to do. I called her up and outlined everything I have described above, including the bit about why I thought my experience had not been an appropriate time for contemplating why the chicken had crossed the road. Against my expectations, she was sincere, sympathetic and understanding. It struck me that she had a  - sometimes difficult - job to do and I had appreciated her unexpectedly humanistic communication. She did mention that there were currently 2 spots available in Camden. Later that day, predominantly because I had liked her and did not want to make her job more difficult, I untied my boat, drove the 45 minutes to Camden, found zero spots available, and drove back to Little Venice.  As I drove back at full throttle, expressing the symptoms of advanced tourettes, I tried to calm myself through  humour by recalling my favourite ‘Knock Knock’ jokes. However, the ever present families & couples on the towpath benches & bridges above had their smiles & waves routinely returned with scowls & grimaces. Never before has anyone so effectively combined the arts of boating and gurning.

The next morning, I walked over to Paddington basin and found one lonely spot available, underneath a bridge. I ran back, grabbed my boat, dumped it into the dark, noisy spot and - until a better one became available - lived there like the grumpy old troll, offering passing strangers 3 wishes in return for soup.

I’m aware that my tone has been measured so far. I’m repressing. 

I understand that locks have to be mended and that CRT - in undertaking the repair of the locks - are putting my license money towards exactly the kind of expenses that I would like them to be making.  

However, CRT have sold a large number of public moorings off for the winter and, consequently, there are very few public spaces available in Paddington basin for boaters such as myself who choose to live on the cut.  Simply put, CRT - the same organization that stuck a notice onto my boat telling me I had to move on and continue with my journey -  made it impossible for me to do so by selling off so many spaces at my next intended port of call. Ordinarily, it could perhaps be argued that I should have moved on further and moored up elsewhere. However, with the aforementioned closure at Camden, Paddington basin was - at that point in time - a dead end. There was nowhere else to go unless I went backwards and moored in Kensal Green (where I had only recently been and could therefore arguably be charged with ‘Bridge Hopping’ - another crime against the waterways which CRT can charge boaters with).

CRT have sold off a number of other prime London sites for the winter - not just Paddington basin. Large  public sections of the waterways across Little Venice, Angel and Hackney are not currently available to normal boaters UNLESS they pay CRT an additional premium in order to use them. Combined with severe mooring restrictions implemented at Kings Cross and Angel (the former due to construction and the latter due to residents whose vitriolic desire to see boaters banished is being supported on account of them having lived there long before the canals were built), it comes at a time when the need for central moorings has never been greater. Only last month an investigation by the London Assembly concurred with this very point and urged CRT to create more central moorings and facilities. CRT’s response was that this would be "challenging":


Currently, there are several sections of the towpath in London where, out of sheer desperation to have somewhere to stay,  boaters are wedging their mooring pins into the concrete.  By doing so, they are risking electrocution from the live cables lying inches below. Is it really that great a challenge for CRT to install mooring rings along those sections? Why would this not be an absolute priority at this critical time when London moorings are disappearing faster than Waitrose yellow sticker pies 5 minutes before closing time?

On a related side note, I believe there are just 5 water points in central London. If you need to fill up with water and - as is often the case - a couple of boats are already waiting, the simple process of getting water can take the best part of a day (my average sized tank, for example, takes roughly an hour to fill). Currently, if I am heading west and the water point at Little Venice is busy, my next opportunity to fill up is in Greenford - roughly 4 cruising hours away. Is it really all that challenging to install a few extra taps along the system - in Kensal Green or Alperton perhaps? It’s water! We’re a developed country! It’s the 21st Century! Greenford! Really? Knock Knock.

My next point might be contentious but if boaters pay CRT to use a previously available section of the canal as a private winter mooring, that is one less spot that is available for everyone else to use. In others words, some boaters become compliant in the problem. I am not judging any boater who chooses to do this. In fact, I seriously considered taking such a mooring for myself, may well do so in the future and the fact that I have not yet done so has nothing to do with morality or ethics. Ultimately, everyone has to survive and will do what is best for their own circumstances. My point is that by profiting from the sale and consequent removal of what would otherwise be a precious London mooring spot, CRT’s status as a charity becomes very questionable. This exercise is a clear statement of capitalism. 

This may seem like an anti-CRT rant but, fundamentally, I am not against them. I don’t agree with everything they do but it would ridiculous, unrealistic and untruthful for anyone to claim that they did. Life is just not like that.  CRT are the body that must oversee the smooth running of the waterways and that is a  task that will always be accompanied by challenges. With regards to winter moorings and facilities - in London especially - I raise these issues in order, simply, that they might be added to the melting pot when it comes to reviewing the next bunch of priorities and projects. I’m just a guy with a boat, a temper, lots of words and a desire to see continued improvements. 

Joel 
Dec 23rd, 2013

Saturday 21 December 2013

What is this?

I  became a boater 5 years ago and am typing this on my 60 ft narrowboat, currently moored up in a gusty Paddington basin. Moving to the sewer, was an impulsive and entirely ill-considered decision which I made whilst cycling up the towpath from Watford to Tring. Despite the irresponsible and spontaneous nature of what I did to my previously comfortable  lifestyle, I have no regrets. Boating has been a good thing for me.

Back in 2008, as I passed Apsley on my bike, I stopped for lunch at the fabulous 'Woodys' Vegetarian Cafe and, afterwards, found myself small-talking for 2 hours with a group of boaters inside the marina there. I  was seduced by the charms of these quirky boat people who - in my ill-judged estimation - had discovered the secret of the universe. I was hooked.  Frozen water pipes, exploding toilet tanks and £400 parking spaces! This was absolutely how things were supposed to be.

As has been a pattern in my life, my infatuation got the better of me. Within a week,  I'd bought a boat and was driving my new home through the raised swing bridge into the haven of Apsley marina. I had convinced myself that life would be perfect if I could live there and eat at 'Woodys' everyday.... and for the next 2 years that's exactly what I did.

As a stressy ex-teacher, former comedian and comedy promoter, living on an open sewer seemed to be the perfect solution to my cranky mindset . It worked too - for a while. Even my Stage 2 hypertension levels - which had occasionally caused blood pressure readings of 180/110 - dropped to normal levels.  I was calm. The sewer had healing properties.


The trouble with trying to cut stress out of your life is that you inevitably find new things to stress about instead. As soon as the novelty wore off, my rose tinted lenses fell into the canal  and I now see the water world through a monocle that matches the brown and grey colour of the water beneath my rusting hull.

In time, following my appearance in court testifying against some local shits who had been terrorising the marina, I fell out of love with Apsley. I became brave, embraced the calling of the sewer, pulled my plug out and decided to rough it. Now I was a proper water gypsy, taking the rough with the smooth.

Don't misunderstand me - I wouldn't go back to my old ways for all the Tesco trolleys in the Regents Canal.

The pleasure of living in Paddington, Camden,  Angel and Hackney remains as thrilling now as  the first time I looped my centre rope through a London mooring ring.

I recently spent 5 months doing the Thames Ring (including  a one month diversion to Market Harborough) and, charming as Crick, Maidenhead and Thrupp showed themselves to be, with their respective hourly bus,  arson and village fayre, barely a day passed when I didn't miss the opportunities provided by my beloved metropolis. I love London, I love my boat and I love having my boat in London.

But......

There are many buts.

That's what this blog is about.

If idealism is your thing, this blog is probably not for you.  If you are interested in the realities of boating, you might want to stick with me for a while.

Conflicts with other boaters, archaic laws & irrational rule changes, overcrowding, poor facilities, double mooring, bureaucracy, triple mooring, incompetent handymen, bizarre waterway initiatives, bad advice, heat-waves,  broken locks, winter, quadruple mooring, autumn & spring, carbon monoxide poisoning, boat shows and CRT.

Over the coming weeks, I look forward to sharing my experiences of the many challenges faced by boat people and attempting to make some sense of it all.  I'll soon be posting details of a regular 'Angry Boater' podcast too.

As well as attempting to provide an honest - as I see it - account of my experiences and perceptions of what it is to be a boater, I am also using this blog as a focus for generating material  for  a comedy show about boating.

I plan to have fun writing this and I hope reading it becomes a worthy pursuit for you too.


Joel
December 21st, 2013