Our mini-break started at Stoke Prior on the Worcester & Birmingham Canal where we were introduced to Rachel, the 56-foot, 4-berth narrowboat that would take us down to Worcester and back. Resplendent in her maroon and blue livery and kitted out with all mod cons, including shower, flush toilet, electric cooker, TV, radio and CD player as well as well-sprung beds and comfy chairs, she appeared more like a floating hotel than a boat. But how to drive her and, more importantly negotiate the 21 locks en route were more the burning questions as far as we three novices were concerned than what we were going to watch on telly that night. No problem. The staff at Black Prince Holidays, through which our trip had been arranged, assured us that with some tuition, commonsense - and an emergency phone number - all would be fine. Phil, from the boatyard, talked us through the procedure and the various boating paraphernalia we would need - or might need - on our trip. The boat hook, pole, ropes and, importantly, windlasses for opening and closing the locks, would be our essentials. The plank, we learnt, was for use if we were unable to moor close to the bank - not for punishing unruly crew. Then we were shown how to use the tiller, gears and windlass, the workings of the stone greaser and how to empty the weed hatch and bilge pump. To me, it all seemed very complicated and I was pleased to have my friends Jill and Barry who seemed more adept than me at taking on board these technical details - or so I thought. And so, putting our new-found knowledge into practice we navigated our way - with some trepidation, I might add - along the initial 100 metres towards the first lock, while Phil stood by with practical advice.
The look of sheer panic on Barry's face spoke volumes as he warily edged Rachel into the confines of the narrow lock. He usually drives a racy sports car, so this must have seemed a monster in comparison. But he negotiated the manoeuvre without mishap and as the water level dropped, he chugged out into the lower reaches leaving Jill and I to close the lock gates and give chase as he began to forge ahead. And so began our first experience of narrowboating along a canal where once barges pulled by two donkeys used to transport goods to and from Cadbury's and the Worcester porcelain factory. I have to say, I haven't laughed so much or so long for ages. Until you get the hang of it, steering an even course is no mean feat. A single lapse in concentration will have you heading into the reeds, as we did on several occasions. Mooring up for the first time can be something of a spectator sport, especially trying to 'parallel park' this very long vessel into a vacant spot along a congested towpath. As for the locks, I used muscles I never knew I had and within a short time, two of us became quite adept at opening and closing the gates to allow Rachel to glide through. But although our first day ended with feelings of smug satisfaction at how quickly we had mastered the rudiments of boating, we did agree that the top speed of 4 mph was a mite too sluggish for our energetic souls. Half way into day two, though, I began to change my perspective. Maybe it takes time to adjust to the peace and quiet and the enforced slower pace of life. Whatever the reason, the canal started to weave its magic. The reeds along the bank were alive with wildlife, fishermen waved good-naturedly as we, rather apologetically, tried to miss their lines and other boaters, many of them novices like us, called out friendly greetings. I began to look forward to leaping off the boat and walking along the towpath to open the locks, chatting to bystanders who had come to watch the action. Once through, it was nice to stand there in the stern enjoying cups of tea, chatting and becoming part of this unexpected sub-culture. Our itinerary was to moor overnight in Worcester's Digits, Basin (gateway to the River Severn) and then turn and come all the way back to Stoke Prior on day three. Depending on canal traffic, negotiating all 21 locks on the 14 mile stretch would take us about 7 hours. When we reached the Basin, we felt we were old hands, mooring up (with help from one of the permanent narrowboat dwellers) to take on water for showers, toilet and domestic needs. Turning the boat so we were pointing the right way for the return trip proved more difficult. Early next morning, with the rising mist casting a dreamlike veil over our floating village, the peace of this new-found world was in drowsy contrast to the waking hum of commuter traffic nearby
By now we were a!l thoroughly captivated by Rachel, the canal and the whole way of life. It can be energetic work, especially for those operating the locks, but, for me, that's all part of the charm. If there are enough of you on the boat, you can take it in turns, but personally, I would feel a bit cheated if I remained on deck while someone else was handling the windlass! Back in Stoke Prior and our final night on board before taking Rachel back the following morning, we were all beginning to feel rather sad as we swabbed the deck, keen to take her back home looking well cared for. Then it was up to the canalside pub, the Boat and Railway for an evening meal. After three days on the water, even the relatively quiet road where it was situated seemed alien. The pub was full of the boaters we had come to recognise over the past days.
I greeted them like old friends - we canal folk are a sociable crowd.
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