Christina Ongle

has a narrow escape on midland canals

Eventually, two boats came past, and one kind man and another lovely couple were good enough to stop and help us. After almost two hours, several unsuccessful tries, rope bums and nearly a second boat aground, it took the muscle of two boats to eventually pull our stricken Sir Galleron from the bank. We thrust a bottle of thankyou wine on the couple's boat as they chugged away, and later tried to buy a beer for the man, whose name we discovered was John, when we met him again at a tavern downriver. He declined, simply telling us to help other boaters if they needed it. For me, that was symbolic of the whole trip. Narrowboating isn't just a hobby, it's a fraternity. People wave and smile to strangers in passing, offer help, advice, and admire each other's boats. Once you take to the water, you become part of a small, friendly community.

As we pulled back in to drop off the boat - having cut short our trip thanks to my little grounding effort - I realised the difference between  spending  several hours a day in a car and on a narrowboat. When you're driving a car, it's all about reaching a destination. On the canals, what's important is the journey.