The Star
December 18, 2004

ONY Belshaw travelled back in time when he took the tiller on a narrowboat for the first time.

THE problem with getting away from it all is that you often have to travel for ages before you really feel as if you have 'got away.'

     And if you live in a fairly crowded comer of the world like South Yorkshire you never seem to be too far from a motorway or at least the sight of a chimney stack. So it comes as something of a thrill to discover there is a whole new world out there which I had never been aware of until recently - the half-forgotten world of the canal.

     My brief, but captivating, entry into this old world took place upon the Llangollen canal near the Welsh-English border.

     My little information pack, sent to me before my trip, assured me; "Remember it never rains in England, but there is sometimes liquid sunshine!"

     And true to form the sun was absolutely pelting it down when we arrived. But within half an hour of setting off from Chirk marina I had that moment of epiphany, that pleasant realisation that on a canal life is so different.

     You are away from the hustle and bustle of normal life. There are no speeding cars, no threatening diesel super tankers, no hustle, nothing but the quietly, lapping waters of the canal and the slowly passing towpath.

     Standing proud upon the deck of the narrowboat you have plenty of time to imagine how it would have been 200 years before when the horse would have been towing barges along, laden with coal or lumber.

     Unlike travelling in a caravan or a car you can pretty well decide to stop anywhere you like. So if you fancy the pub you are passing (another realisation - there are plenty of pubs that back onto canals) or just like the scenery, you simply moor up and enjoy the surroundings. The Welsh/English border is one of those quiet, understated regions which doesn't attract hordes of tourists but nonetheless has a charm all of its own.

     On several occasions I spotted Herons at the canalside, there were old Georgian farmsteads, and Just the gorgeous feeling of chugging along in the morning sunlight feeling like you have the world to yourself.
 

    En route there is also the stunning 200 year-old Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, standing 130 foot high, offering unrivalled views of the countryside around. If you have the time and inclination there is nothing to stop you travelling all the way from Wales to Sheffield's canal basin, where the city's coal and lumber supplies traditionally used to arrive. In fact one fellow 'sailor' told me he had been on the canals continuously since July (this was October).

     There were some minor hitches. A bit of a stiff breeze during my jaunt meant every time I tried to moor up the narrowboat, one end would be blown out towards the other side of the canal before I had the other moored up. That meant I had to leap on top of the roof and using the long pole, had to push the vessel back to shore - Italian gondolier-style.

     On another occasion, attempting to throw the mooring rope to shore, I somehow managed to throw the whole damn thing in the canal instead.
     But hey, I am sure you wouldn't be as incompetent as me. Negotiating the locks was simpler than I thought. The trickiest bit is actually getting the narrowboat into the lock itself before you do anything else. Imagine trying to drive a single decker bus, from the back, into a garage with just a few inches to spare on either side - while sliding on ice.

     I'll certainly give the narrowboat experience another go at some stage. If you never have, it comes with my hearty recommendation.