Scandalous

This is something of a shocker. It’s not brand new information but, all the same, it’s surprising how few boaters seem to be aware of this.

I don’t plan to get into issues of good, bad, right and wrong. I am starting from the premise that - in the world of the waterways - a very small group of people have some very significant financial privileges. If I had these privileges myself, I would want to make the most of them and I would be inclined to manipulate circumstances in such a way as to allow me to do just that. Such is human nature. Life is a game and, within the rules, each of us is here to play it as best as we can. Sometimes we break the rules though. However, when we do, we should try not to get caught out. 

Some years ago, I heard that British Waterways owned BWML (British Waterways Marinas Ltd). At the time, I was staying in a marina - a BWML one, in fact - and I did not care too much.  It did not affect me.

Since BW morphed into CRT (Canals & Rivers Trust), CRT are applying ever increasing pressure upon continuous cruisers to find a home mooring in marinas. Consequently, as a continuous cruiser, I do care about this. It affects me. At this point in my life, I have no interest in being in a marina and I like moving about.

When I first heard about it, the idea that CRT could own BWML struck me as absurd and I thought it might be an unsubstantiated rumour.

So, this week, I checked. It only took a few seconds.

It is how things are.

BWML is a subsidiary company, wholly owned by CRT. 

If you need convincing, scroll through page 2 of the following link:

http://canalrivertrust.org.uk/media/library/1525.pdf

In other words, the Trust that governs our waterways and is doing all it can to push continuous cruisers into paying for a home mooring, stands to profit significantly whenever a boater does so. They will profit if a boater takes a towpath mooring or moves into any of the 20 BWML operated marinas (or any of the independent marinas affiliated with CRT, such as Engineer’s Wharf). The problem is that CRT is not open or public about this. The relationship between the charitable charity & trustworthy trust known as CRT and their profit-hungry chain of marinas is, whilst not exactly a secret, somewhat hidden. Neither company is bragging about its relationship with the other. It’s as if there something a bit shameful at the root of it - a bit like a one night stand with your cousin. 

Those boaters who do not take a home mooring are paying CRT a lot less than those boaters who do. In CRT’s eyes, therefore, continuous cruisers are the least profitable members of the boating community. Is there any wonder that many continuous cruisers feel that CRT treats them contemptuously?

So, given the above, is it possible that CRT’s motive for applying pressure to continuous cruisers to take up home moorings is financially driven?

BWML operates 20 marinas, 25 percent of which are in the proximity of London - Cowroast, Apsley, Packet Boat, Limehouse and Poplar Dock. If you have a 60 ft boat,  mooring at one of their central locations will set you back around £10,000 a year - an obscene price for a parking space and a plug socket (which you will pay even more for if you decide to connect to it).

I cannot comment on the entire network but I have noticed that an increase in enforcement appears to be especially strong in areas close to BWML marinas, for example the Grand Union South & Regent’s Canal. This is, presumably, just coincidental as CRT states that the company, “operates under a Fair Trading Code of Practice. The principles of the Fair Trading Code are that BWML will be treated by Canal & River Trust (CRT) in the same manner as any other private mooring or marina operator and that BWML should not receive any special help, information, services or privileges that are not made available on the same terms to other operators on the CRT network of waterways.”

Obviously, if CRT were intentionally making life difficult for continuous cruisers close to their own marinas with the hope that some of them will take up a mooring yet neglecting to patrol those areas where they have less of a presence with equal vigilance, it would be a contravention of the above. 

Even without the relationship between CRT & BWML, I wonder if the sheer volume of BWML sites merits intervention by the Monopolies commission? BWML, I believe, has way too much power in the marina marketplace.

Furthermore, given this relationship, can anything we are told by CRT be taken at face value? Many of us share concerns that the 1995 British Waterways’ Act is applied, interpreted, reinterpreted and misinterpreted by CRT in whichever way suits whatever their agenda happens to be. The actual wording and its intentions do not seem to be of much relevance at all.

Here’s a couple of questions and answers you probably won’t here at any of the current  season of CRT Q & A evenings.

Q: Why are there not enough water points in London? 

A: Because it makes life much harder for people who continuously cruise. This is intended to increase the uptake of home moorings and therefore the dividends paid to the BWML directors - ie the same people who could authorize expenditure on additional water points if they did not have a vested financial interest in not doing so.

Q: Why are CRT focussing so strongly on enforcement atm?

A: Because it makes life much harder for people who continuously cruise. This will increase the uptake of home moorings and therefore the dividends paid to  BWML directors -  ie the same people who initiated the programme of increased enforcement as they have a vested financial interest in  doing so.

And so it goes on.

I do not believe that the directors of the body that are responsible for managing the waterways and benefitting from boat license revenue should also have a strong financial motivation for forcing boaters off of those waterways and into marinas. It is a conflict of interests.

Is it ethical? 

In line with my own code of ethics - which is all I have to go on - it is not.

Is it legal? 

I do not know but would be interested in hearing the views of someone who does.

In my first few years of boating, I stayed at 3 BWML marinas on contracts of varying lengths. I was charged according to the length of my boat but - on most of my contracts - only provided with a 40 ft finger pontoon. This troubled me. I could understand paying for a towpath mooring according to my boat’s length but if the marina would only provide me with a 40 ft pontoon, how could it justify charging me for  using 60 ft of their space? I never received a satisfactory answer to this and it was the first time I had cause to feel that BWML’s ethics were out of line with my own. That said, I know other marinas do this too.

I once had a BWML winter mooring where - for 6 months - I used a berth which belonged to another boater who had taken her boat to another part of the country for a year. That boater was still paying for the berth though so - upon my arrival -  the laws of physics were defied whilst BWML was paid twice over for the same space. I did not mind too much, of course, as I wanted to be there and was getting what I wanted but, once again,  the relationship between BWML’s corporate morals and my own personal ones was being questioned in my ever questioning mind. How can they receive the same money TWICE for the same space? Shouldn’t the permanent resident of that berth have their costs reduced on account of me having sublet the space in their absence? 

If you pay for a home mooring (towpath or BWML), then you are worth more money to CRT than I currently am. A boater with a home mooring who goes out cruising is not consistently subject to the same enforcement proceedings as a continuous cruiser. The 14 day rule does not always seem to apply to boaters who pay for a home mooring. I regularly hear of cases where boaters with a home mooring are left alone for months when they remain in the same spot on the towpath. A continuous  cruiser friend of mine has called CRT in more than one occasion to complain about overstaying boats and has been told that they are not on their system as continuous cruisers. They are already paying a premium and for this they are  seemingly granted extra towpath privileges and left to do as they wish. In fact, for as long as they stay away from their home mooring, the opportunity exists for the marina to charge another boat to use their space. Smart business or corporate bandits? Perhaps it’s both. But is it legal?

My own experience is also reflected in the above. Before I became a continuous cruiser, I sometimes overstayed in places and - not once during that period -  did I receive a patrol notice.  Tbh I had begun to think I was immune. Soon after I  registered as a continuous cruiser, I received my first notice on my 16th day at a 14 day VM.  Yes, I understand that I did a terrible thing and I make no excuses. I also accept that it is possible that the timing of my decision to continuously cruise may have coincided with the period when CRT increased its patrol and enforcement activity. However, I’d be interested in hearing from any boaters with home moorings who have overstayed whilst away from their base and experienced received a patrol notice.

I wonder why the relationship between CRT & BWML isn’t on everyone’s radar? For obvious reasons, CRT do not make much noise about the connection but, oddly, neither do boaters.

Here’s my thinking.

If you are in a BWML marina, you do not care about continuous cruisers and enforcement  proceedings. Consequently, other than when your license renewal comes up, CRT is not going to be on your radar.

If you are a continuous cruiser, you do not care about marinas & home moorings. Consequently BWML marinas are not going to be on your radar.

Boaters belong to one camp or the other and it’s hardly surprising that they don’t pay attention to issues that affect the other camp. Again, that is a part of human nature. Either intentionally or circumstantially, however, it is an aspect of the human condition that is currently being manipulated & exploited.

I did not plan to get into issues of good, bad, right and wrong.  I make an effort to empathize, see both sides & not be judgmental. Sometimes, it’s hard though.

Joel

Feb 22nd, 2014

The Angry Boater meets The Purple Army @ Ronnie Scotts

This is a departure from my usual format. It's also very unboaty. The only boating links I can contrive are (1) I filmed a 20 second section on board and (b) I was moored in Camden which is how I met the Prince fans outside Koko ... and that gave me the idea to make this film the following day.

Rotten Boaters - Pt 2

When I first got a boat, I sometimes used to drive too fast.

I remember zipping past a line of moored boats once and being shouted at to, “Slow the fuck down.”

Through ignorance & anger, I shouted back, “Fuck you. I’m nowhere near you.”

“That’s hardly the point!” he yelled.

“Well, what is the point?” I yelled back.

He didn’t say anything.  Perhaps he didn’t know either.

These days, I’m more careful when I pass moored boats because, these days, I understand the point. 

My own pins have been pulled out by the wash from speeding vessels a few times and, consequently, I try not to do that to others.  For the most part, us human types empathize better when we have first hand experience of the situation in hand. So, nowadays, when I pass moored boats, I tend to slow down.

Last summer, I was cruising along the Grand Union, somewhere around Leighton Buzzard . It was a gorgeous day during the heatwave and I felt happy and relaxed. My boat and I were chugging along  so slowly that other boats were overtaking. The pace of my boat matched the pace of my mind.

Just ahead of me, there was a cluster of residential moorings and - out of instinct rather than necessity - I slowed down even further.

As I passed the moorings, one of the boat owners jumped out of his back door and, sarcastically, called over, “Oi - have you got a plane to catch?”

I snapped out of my daydream state. 

“What?”

“You’re going too fast!” he shouted. His face was red. Slow down!” 

I saw red too. 

“If I was going any slower, I’d be going backwards,” I called back, “Use your eyes.”

Instead of retreating to his boat or, heaven forbid, admitting that he might have been mistaken, he turned self righteous and started droning on about inconsiderate boaters and the perils of creating wash.  My calm demeanor was long gone now. I pulled my throttle into reverse. I felt compelled to continue the discussion. 

Reversing a 60 ft boat is an unexpected and powerful mid-argument strategy. As I pulled alongside him, the self righteousness, pride and pomposity drained from his cheeks. 

To a stranger, especially when I’m not smiling (which is often)  my appearance can appear a little disconcerting as I am a bit overweight. I used to think that there could only be an upside to eating less, working out and slimming down. However, a larger build definitely has its silver linings - even when that size had been fueled by pizza and cookies rather than free weights.

As I reversed, I had a flashback to a boating encounter I’d once had near Uxbridge with a grumpster who routinely came out of her boat to stare judgmentally or reprimand every passing boat. She had a reputation for complaining to other boaters - whether there were grounds to do so or not. Consequently, some boaters deliberately sped up every time they passed her.

“That line of yours about catching planes?” I began, “You say that to every boat who passes by, don’t you? That’s your little catchphrase, right?” 

It was a gamble but by the way that his expression shifted., I knew I’d hit a nerve. Without a word, he went back into his boat and closed the door. I resisted the temptation to drive away at full throttle. I was no longer calm though. My serenity had been stolen away from me and I was filled with unwanted adrenaline.

As I drove on, I tried to process what had just happened. 

Perhaps, over time, so many boats had sped past him that he had developed some kind of OCD and constantly felt triggered to prevent it in advance. 

The heatwave may have been a factor too. It had been extreme of late and, consequently, tempers were more prone to being lost. 

Ultimately, though, my sense was that it came down to a need to feel in control - a trait I recognize in myself too and one that contributed to my decision to live on a boat in the first place.

I touched on this in a previous post but I think a lot of boaters have control issues. You need to feel that you do not have enough freedom in order to take the decision to create a life which is - superficially - all about freedom. I can certainly identify with that scenario. The trouble is that a solution is usually more complicated than a lifestyle change. Floating around on a canal might help but, unless the deeper subconscious cause is dealt with too, over time, the problem will morph itself into the new lifestyle. That’s also a part of my experience and, perhaps, one of the reasons why I created this blog.

For me, living on the water initially provided the calming antidote to life’s stresses but that was only a temporary fix. Boating moved me on to the next phase of my life, yes, but the essence of who I am and what drives me has not really changed. Whilst my awareness and understanding has evolved, deep down, I still have a need for freedom and control that I sometimes seems insatiable. At the root of that is anger and - if someone tries to control me or restrict my freedom - it’s that anger that always rises to the surface. 

The “Have you got a plane to catch” guy pushed my buttons by unjustly accusing me of speeding past his boat and his use of sarcasm & cliche probably angered me even more. However, even if his complaint had been justified, I would probably have felt the same. 

A few weeks after I met him, I performed the mid-argument boat reversal for a 2nd time....

Joel

Feb 7th, 2013

Rotten Boaters Pt 1

First of all, I’m in a foul mood. 

I moved from LV to Paddington Basin earlier.  The only available spot here was under a footbridge, directly over the world’s loudest jacuzzi. It’s obviously not a jacuzzi but - whatever the water churning device in the basin is - it sounds like a jacuzzi, keeps working 24/7 and I am moored on top of it.

Before you ask why I haven’t moved, my lower back is on the verge of going into spasm so I daren’t. For now, I’m stuck here, wearing earplugs and dealing with the constant movement caused by whatever the contraption is that lies beneath me. Furthermore,  I’m feeling empathy with everyone who has ever flipped out in public for no apparent reason. Yes, I am on the verge of madness. 

This is the worst mooring spot ever. Luckily, there is a tube strike tomorrow so I’ll be able to stay on board and get used to it.

Why didn’t I stay where I was in Little Venice? There was plenty of space there. I wasn’t annoying anyone and no-one was annoying me. 

I didn’t stay there because my 14 days was up and muggins here didn’t want to get a patrol notice or be known as one of those evil, sociopathic overstayers.

Because, if I’m honest, I don’t like people who overstay.

Now, I have occasionally overstayed myself and, in order not to be accused of hypocrisy, I’d best confess that I don’t like myself very much for having done so.

I’m not really talking about a few extra days here and there though. Most of us have done that  - emergencies, weather etc. Shit happens. I’m talking about the long termers, those who think that they have a God given right to stay wherever they want for months on end and will boldly shout about how anyone who doesn’t like it should mind their own business. 

On a side note, not long ago, I was moored up in Islington and deliberately got up at 6.30am in order to fill up with water before moving on. When I got to the water point, another boat was already there. They weren’t filling up. They were just there - moored up (I found out later they’d been there for over a week). What does that even mean? Only 5 water points in central London and one boater thinks it’s OK to hijack one for their exclusive use. 

I moored up alongside them and - and climbed over their boat to attach my hose to the tap. The owner came out and wearily complained that I’d woken her up. I smiled, secretly,  wishing that I’d filled up at 3 am instead. 

I pointed out the obvious and she said, “I’ve got permission to be here from CRT.” I choose to assume that she was lying. In the event that CRT are capable of such insanity, I simply prefer not to believe it. Fingers in ears. Lalalalala.

As for the constant overstayers, I hear stories that CRT are clamping down and even removing boats from the water. Usually, these stories are told in the context of how evil and heartless CRT are. Sometimes, I find myself nodding and expressing that sentiment too but - inside - I’m not always siding with the boater. I’d sometimes like to stay for months at an awesome mooring or not pay for a license. However, I don’t and I therefore reserve the right to judge others by my own standards. Why would I sympathize with them? I’m human and that’s not how humans are. We support those who behave as we do. We do not support those who behave in ways that we do not. 

If I choose not to overstay somewhere, it’s not REALLY because I care about the rules or that I feel obliged to keep the system moving or create a space for another boater. It’s primarily because I’m fearful of the consequences I might incur by breaking the rules.

In the interests of full disclosure, I should also state that my water tank lasts just over 2 weeks. Consequently, for me, after 14 days I HAVE to move to fill up and - if I have gone to the trouble of driving my boat to the water point anyway - it’s not a significant extra burden to moor up again somewhere else afterwards.

My point is that, if (a) I was less fearful of authority and (b) I had a bigger water tank, I would find  the temptation to overstay far greater than I do with my current temperament and tank capacity.

I don’t like overstayers but partly it’s because I cannot be one. Perhaps, I’m just jealous.

Anyone in Paddington fancy a jacuzzi? I’ll swap spots with you.

Joel

Feb 4th, 2014

Why I'm an Angry Boater. Part 2

This is why I’m an angry boater.

In 2009, I was on a stand up comedy tour across America’s Deep South. Even though I lived in Watford, Hertfordshire, stand up was something I had been doing in the US - with a modicum of success - since 1992. I’d performed in around 40 states and, at the time, had aspirations to become the first Brit to perform in all 50.

Prior to that I’d been a secondary school teacher and - at the same time - was working as a  UK promoter of stand up comedy shows too.

Throughout all these phases of my life, I’d been afflicted with hypertension - quick to judge, quick to react & quick to snap.

I didn’t particularly enjoy living in England and treated my thrice yearly Stateside trips as my sanctuary. I lived for those trips.

                                                                                                    *******

I was in Johnson City, Tennessee - a small, mountain town in the Deep South and I was feeling angry.

There was no stage lighting and a toy microphone - which had been plugged into a Juke Box with a blown speaker - served to muffle the first act rather than amplify him. Worst of all, the TV’s at the back were left on  so that  guests and the ambivalent staff could mingle at the bar and talk about sports.

All my buttons were being pressed. I’d come to America to perform - and I was in an environment which was  undermining what I was there to do. I felt very disrespected. 

After the show, an audience member attacked me and - at 1 am - the local police arrived at my room to kick me out of the hotel for having incited the assault. 

4 hours later, I checked into a motel room in Asheville, Nth Carolina. I was seething. I turned on my video camera and made a video about what I had just been through. It’s uncomfortable viewing but, if you want to see it, the link is below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8DzwD3d2jA

I found out later that there had been a recent history of visiting entertainers being treated badly there. Unlike the others though, although I didn’t acknowledge this on the video, I reacted to the disrespect that was directed towards me by being disrespectful too.

Actually, the video spins a version of events that paints me in a good light but - deep down - I knew that a fair share of the responsibility was mine. I play the victim very well in the video, I think. I was a victim but I know I was  responsible too.

   

Two days later, I was in Louisville, Kentucky licking my wounds. I was in a strange state - wounded, reflective - out of balance. That awful night had brought all my stresses to the surface and provoked some kind of autistic meltdown. My need to be in control,  the challenge to my freedom and restrictions on how I communicated had caused me to over-react. 

I did not know it then but it was a key turning point which would  move me on to a new stage in my life. 

I was in a wonderful record shop in Louisville called ‘Ear Ecstasy.’ It’s since closed, unfortunately. ‘Gomez’ were about to do an in store appearance to promote their new CD. and, afterwards, the guitarist was chatting to the audience.

Later that night they were doing a big show at ‘Headliners’ Music Hall, further up the road. If I knew if they were playing ‘Shot Shot’ - my favourite Gomez song - I knew I would go. I just wasn’t sure how to ask them without causing offence.

“Hey are you playing Shot Shot tonight ? To be honest I don’t want to waste my time with new material.”

I bought the CD and while the band were signing it, I had a chance to speak to the guitarist. 

“Can I ask a cheeky question?” I began.

“Of course,” he replied.

“By any chance is Shot Shot on your setlist tonight?” 

“Yes, it is actually.” He smiled.

I smiled too.

“You’ve just sold another ticket for tonight,” I said, “Because to be honest I really didn’t want to waste my time with new material.”

I went to the show and got to the front. There was a drunk girl next to me. She kept screaming and it was making me angry. I was about to snap but - just before I did - had a Johnson City flashback and restrained myself.

I was looking at her, considering possible strategies, and she caught my eye. She knew what I was thinking and smiled, a little sheepishly. Her look calmed me somehow. I smiled back and said,  gently, “You’re not going to do that all night, aren’t you?”

“I’m sawrrrry, she said.” And that was it. `We had connected and she didn’t scream anymore.

The last song of the night was Shot Shot. Halfway through the song, I looked at the guitar player. He was looking right at me and giving me the thumbs up. 

I was very happy.

After the show, I saw the drunk girl outside in the car park. She was on the ground, crying. I went over to her and, sobbing, she explained that she’d fallen over and was sure she had broken her thumb. Her tears were not about her physical pain - she had no medical insurance and had  only just incurred a $2000 medical bill. Now, she could see it all happening again.

A week before, I would probably have lost my temper with her for screaming in my ear during the show and I can’t imagine I would have stopped to ask her about her troubles in the car park. However, my post-Johnson City state of self pity & vulnerability had opened my heart somehow and, for now, made me more gentle, given me more empathy, perhaps. There was some  guilt too - a knowledge that I was partly to blame for what had happened to me. Maybe I felt the need to remind myself that I wasn’t a shitty person.

The girl, Jessie, was with a  friend. His name was Lance.

I had a rental car and - after arranging for another Gomez fan with a truck to take their bikes home for them - I took Lance and Jessie to the hospital. On the way there, we talked bikes (I’d been planning to rent one the next day) and I asked if they knew anywhere I could do so.  Lance happened to work for the local bike shop and had a spare bike which he offered to lend me for the  rest of my time in Louisville.

I loved cycling. At the time, it was my favourite way to exercise and explore wherever I happened to be. I often rented bikes in America.

The next morning, I showed up at the bike shop and - true to his word - Lance had the bike ready for me. It was a little rusty and the brakes didn’t work so well but - as soon as I got on - I found it so comfortable, the coziest bike I’d ever sat on. I don’t have a great posture but this bike had me sitting in a naturally upright position. I loved it.

The brand was ‘Specialized.’

Within a week, I was back in England and I’d bought my own. 

The next day, on my maiden journey, a perfect summer’s day, I decided to cycle from my flat in Watford to Tring, about 10 miles further to the north. I’d cycled short distances along the canal path on my previous bike - a cheap thing from Halfords - but it was so uncomfortable that a 5 mile round trip was my top limit. Any more than that was a surefire route to hemorrhoids. However, I knew I’d be able to go  much further on this new bike so Tring was the plan.

I didn’t make it though.

Even though it was only a few miles from the town where I’d spent the last decade, I had never heard of Apsley. It was love at first sight.

There were dinky restaurants on the waterfront, a beautiful waterside pub and a small marina housing 50 or so narrowboats. One of the restaurants was called 'Woodys' -  a vegetarian cafe. I had lunch there, outside, overlooking the water. 

After my spinach and feta crepe, I bought a scoop of ‘Aged Prune and Armagnac' ice cream and wandered over to have a  closer look at the marina. I met some of the residents and the warden. We got on very well. We chatted for over 2 hours and one of them gave me a beer.  

I had always seen myself as an outsider by - at that moment - I felt connected to these people.  I could feel myself bursting to live there.

I had an epiphany. I was going to buy a boat and I was going to live in Apsley. I told my new friends my plans but they didn’t believe me.   

The next day, I saw 10 narrowboats. The day after that, I saw another 5 and - by the end 5 pm - I’d bought one. 

Within a week, my epiphany had become a reality. For 2 happy years, I lived in Apsley and ate at Woodys most days.

My unhappy experience in the Deep South triggered a chain of events that led to my lifestyle change.

If I hadn’t reacted so badly to my stressful Tennessee situation, I would not have been attacked.

That moment and my subsequent expulsion at the hands of the local police humbled me to the point that I needed to bring love and balance back into my life. It was the reason that I arrived in Louisville with an open heart - a vulnerable demeanor that made me want to reconnect with the universe. It’s why I was in a ‘go with the flow’ mode, why I went to that Gomez night and ended up helping Jessie and Lance. 

My good deed led Lance to help me with my quest for a bike.

Lance’s good deed introduced me to ‘Specialized’ bikes and led me to buy one of my own. 

If it wasn’t for Lance and the bike, I still probably would not have heard of Apsley and I would not have had that magical day on the Towpath that led me to Woodys and my people. Why else would I have been motivated to buy a boat? I fell in love with that place and those people. A boat made me one of them.

                                                                                                        *******

5 years on, here I am, sitting on my little boat in Little Venice, reflecting on fate and the wonderful new life that my stressy nature eventually brought my way.

I am less stressed these days. I love being in England now too. Being here on the canals is wonderful. The thrills and joy I used to get from being in America have morphed into my life here. England is full of joy for me now. There are bad times of course but embracing the lows allows me to enjoy the highs. I feel alive again and no longer have to fly to the US to have that feeling.

My stress reached a breaking point that led me to this life - a life where my stress is more manageable.

The antidote was right there in the heart of the problem.  

Joel

January 27th, 2014

Angry Boater? You don’t seem angry to me. Pt 1

I like my privacy and I like things to be quiet.

I’m typing this on my boat in Little Venice at 00.15 am on Saturday night. I don’t have the TV on or any music in the background. That’s how my boat usually is. Until 50 minutes ago,  I could hear some music coming from the floating restaurant across from me and - quiet as it was - I’m definitely happier now that the restaurant has closed. When it comes to external noise, I am very intolerant. However, I understand that part of the price of getting to stay in my beloved London is that I will sometimes have to endure the noise of others. It’s a fair trade.

Some boaters can be difficult - more than most, perhaps. I am one of those. Often, we have pushed ourselves (or been pushed) beyond our comfort zones. The decision to move onto the water in the first place can sometimes be traced back to a time when coping with life seemed almost unendurable. Often, it’s a personal struggle; sometimes a disconnect with society. Whatever is deep at the root of our “escape” though - wildly different as each boater’s story will be - probably isn’t a time of happiness. However, we’re all different and, ultimately, I can only speak for myself.

The boat, for me, was about finding a cure for what troubled me. It was partly an escape from that which I could not tolerate.

When I lived in a flat, for about 18 months, there was a large gang of youths who used to meet outside a shop on the opposite side of the street. They were loud, anti-social, usually drunk, and were typically there from late afternoon ‘til well gone 1am.  All of the windows in my flat looked onto this shop so - whatever room I was in - I could hear them.  In my own home, I felt like a hostage. I often called the police to disperse them but - once they had left - the gang would re-assemble.  On another occasion,  I opened my windows and played loud classical at them. They went home and returned twenty minutes later with their grandparents.

At around the same time, I was a secondary school English teacher and had been allocated a classroom that looked out onto a section of the playground where PE lessons often took place. I was trying to deliver my life enhancing lessons about oxymorons & conjunctions and they were being ruined by a guy with a whistle who wanted to shout and teach football outside my window.

I would often abandon my class to complain or ask them to play elsewhere. On other occasions, I marched my class to the empty canteen and taught them there instead. 

My need for quiet and control was being challenged at home and at work.

What you resist, persists.

Everywhere I went I was doing everything I could to control my environment and it wasn’t working - a stressful way to live and one of the causes (or perhaps effects) of my hypertension.

In time, the gang found a new hangout and I got a new classroom. My life was manageable again but  - like a Pavlov dog - I now had a subconscious conditioned response. Even today, I experience disproportionate stress if exposed to the stimulus of an ongoing, external noise that is out of my control.

My stressy nature eventually brought me to a point where something snapped inside and I needed to find an antidote. Living on a boat - for all the bullshit  and hardships that goes along with it - is my antidote. It’s reconnected me to the universe, albeit via the back door. I am alive again, still stressy at times but everything feels manageable. I can still snap though. It’s always under the surface.

Nowadays, if I am uncomfortable with the noise level in my immediate environment,  I can untie my ropes and move. I like that a lot. It doesn’t mean that I will necessarily move but the knowledge that I can is hugely empowering. I can take my home with me wherever I choose to go. I am a tortoise. 

Paradoxically, I love live music and see tons of gigs. This kind of noise does not stress me because I have chosen to be exposed to it. Unlike noisy neighbours etc, watching my favourite bands play is a choice and I am in control of my choices.

The thing is that I have been at the front for enough loud gigs now that my hearing has been permanently affected. I don’t want to go completely deaf but I really wouldn’t mind losing a further 15 to 20 percent. That should block out just enough everyday background noise to drop my blood pressure a few extra points. I already say “pardon” and “I didn’t quite catch that” far more often than most people but that really isn’t my problem. That is only a stress for whoever is talking to me.

Whilst my issue with noise  is an important reason why living on a boat works for me, it wasn’t the key reason why I bought one. Major lifestyle changes often need a traumatic event to act as a trigger and, luckily for me, I had a crazy one of those in 2009. 

To be continued.

Joel 

Jan 27th , 2014

You live on a WHAT?

When I became a boater, I was convinced that my new identity would reinforce my quirky & eccentric image. It definitely did that but that was only a part of the story. Like most of us, I’m fascinated to know how others perceive me. Perhaps I’m wrong but it’s my impression that most Muggles see boaters as objects of either mystery, envy or fear.

The mysterious element is most obvious when I am traveling through a busy lock with a curious crowd -  perhaps Broadway Market on a Saturday or Camden on any day you care to pick. 

In my early days of boating, the gawping eyes and camera phones stroked my ego but, once that novelty had worn off, it started to annoy me. I went through a fairly lengthy, self-righteous phase of dramatically taking photographs of everyone on the towpath who pointed a phone or camera in my direction. Ironically, those who seemed most surprised were usually the Japanese tourists. (I’ve always wondered how they’d cope visiting an Amish village).

Nowadays, I have developed my shepherding skills and learned to harness the enthusiasm of any onlookers. While the lock is filling / emptying, I can  be seen at my most charming - chatting away, and answering questions. Once the lock is set, as a special treat, the spectators - with the kind of eagerness usually associated with an unexpected  wild dolphin swim - heave and sweat away at the gates as I drive off into the mire.

The envy component is perhaps the most obvious one. The relaxing, floaty boaty life - that spiritual, life extending escape from the burdens of traditional living - is a perception that lulled many boaters to move onto the water in the first place. That was certainly my motivation. One of the first lessons I learned, however, was that not everyone had been ‘seduced’ onto the water. Many boaters have told me they had been driven to the lifestyle through financial problems. I remain an idealist though. As far as I’m concerned, this is a lifestyle upgrade - perhaps, for me, because it was a choice. ‘Angry Boater’ mode or otherwise, my boating reality has always be experienced through that filter.

Those who behave towards boaters with fear, oddly, are sometimes other boaters.

Last summer, I had a strange encounter on the Oxford Canal. I was in a lock and another boat was waiting to come the other way. The other boater was standing by the gate, helping me work the lock. We were talking amicably until he asked where my home mooring was and I told him that I didn’t have one.

“It’s all about to change for YOU,” he practically shouted. “ I’m on the boater’s forum and you’re not going to be doing THAT for much longer.”

I am not sure what aspect of not having a home mooring he objected so strongly to but I stayed friendly, tried to empathize and  introduced myself. When I asked him his name - and what forum he meant  - explaining that I was curious to learn more about his predictions for my future, he turned even more red and snapped, “Don’t you be worrying about THAT!”

It was probably the first time I’d had cause to reflect on a ‘Them and us’ dynamic existing amongst boaters. I wish I’d gotten to the bottom of his angst but I didn’t. All I can do is hypothesize.

Obviously, he had a home mooring but what was his resentment? 

Did he hate the fact that he was paying for a marina and I was free from that burden? 

Or was he expressing his own fear of living on the cut full time? 

When I started boating, I lived in a marina and, like many of my neighbours, I soon became institutionalized. I paid a lot of money to stay there, partly because I was scared. I believed it was better to be here - jammed between other boats - than on the scary outside. I even recall reading a British Waterways’ pamphlet which referred to the cut as “bandit country,” which reinforced my desire to stay exactly where I was.

Moving onto the cut full time, for me, was a gradual experience. For 2 years, I plucked up the courage to travel in the summer months but I still continued to pay for winter moorings. Eventually, however, I unplugged my shoreline for good. 

As for non-boaters, the fear-factor is sometimes manifested through a perception that living afloat is either lonely, unsafe, unsanitary or uncomfortable. Of course, all those fears have some justification behind them. Ultimately, it depends on your boat,  what you do and how you do it. Living afloat isn’t for everyone. Sometimes, it’s challenging.

For me, that’s the appeal. I’ve learned new skills, faced my fears, become more self reliant and explored beyond my comfort zone. It takes more effort to live like this. The reward for that effort, however, is that I now feel so much more alive and, for the first time, I have an emotional connection with my home.  I love living in different places, being around other boaters, feeding swans by hand from my side hatch, sitting on a beanbag on my roof in the summer with a book and a bottle of wine, exploring different towns, cities and villages and setting my own pace and destiny. 

As for that boater I met on the Oxford Canal, I’d still love to know what that was about. As he’s “on the boater’s forum,” perhaps he’ll read this. If that’s you, don’t be a stranger.

Joel

Jan 22nd, 2013