Life during Lockdown

I spent the first lockdown in a spacious 3 bedroom house in Somserset with my husband; we missed our 45 foot narrowboat and never quite got used to the confinement that lockdown brings but spent the time well, fully re-vamping our house so that when freedom beckoned it sold in 3 days. I was thankful I’d not been ‘trapped’ on our narrowboat; what with its limited space and the closure of the canals I could only imagine claustrophobia and frustration.

So, here we are at the better side of lockdown #2…how’s it been?

The fact that I’ve not written a blog post for 7 weeks is evidence enough that things have been pretty fine. Sure, reunion plans in Cheshire have sadly been put on hold and we’ve not explored the ‘Shroppie’ as much as we’d expected…but what I have done is spend more time in one place than planned and it’s been great.

Things take longer on a narrowboat…we needed to copy some documents and send them off and this took 3 days. One day to walk 3 miles to the nearest PO that doesn’t exist any more, one day to walk (through a field full of frisky bullocks, past some of the largest strawberry farms in the country) to the next nearest PO that doesn’t have a copier for the public to use and the 3rd day to take a bus to Stafford to complete the task. One day we walked 10 miles for the unrivalled luxury of an M&S food store - the fact it was in a garage forecourt only slightly dented the joy.

Having an isolated spot in the middle of nowhere but close enough to essentials has been key. The nearest shop is 30 minutes’ walk away, the nearest waste and sanitary station about 3 miles away. Filling the water tank and emptying the toilet become days out, planned in advance; we check the weather and aim to travel when it’s not raining, blue skies and calm days are the best. Our 6 mile round trip takes 4 to 5 hours, travelling in the wrong direction for an hour or so in order to turn around to go where we need to…you really can’t be in a rush.

Nature- and photography-wise, I’d high hopes for a mandarin duck who shared the first few lockdown days with me. There are always kingfishers darting and flashing in front of me whenever I’m running along the towpath - they don’t show themselves when I’m walking slowly, camera in hand. I’ve learned to identify fieldfares (though silently I always say ‘finefare’ which is a budget supermarket from my Cheshire days) and watched a bird of prey swoop in on an unattended pair of chicks. I’ve wandered with the Sigma 105mm macro lens that saw me so well through the first lockdown and enjoyed the way it focuses attention onto the small details. I even photographed a full moon and this morning watched a grey heron catching fish.

So I can safely say, I’ve had a ‘good’ lockdown and have a lot to be thankful for; I can’t wait to see my friends and family properly, to sit in a pub and have a pint and a chat with someone (anyone) and I’m going to stay on my little boat out in the sticks for as long as I need to stay stafe.

I hope that you’re all well and still smiling and getting out for some fresh air; look at trees and birds and berries and enjoy what’s around you…

Love, Phil xx

The River Wey Navigation, 1st attempt

Bad weather certainly stopped play for us.

24 hours into our 3 week exploration of the River Wey Navigation 17 trees crashed down - they narrowly missed a holiday boat (who knew a narrowboat break could be so exciting?), blocked the canal and towpath and thereby stopped us where we were, which was one lock on the right side of not being totally stuck.

The River Wey Navigation (I do like its full title) is a little-known section of the British waterways that joins the Thames at Shepperton and starts (or ends) in Godalming, Surrey - it was opened in 1653, allowing goods to be transported in both directions on horse-drawn barges built to carry 30 tons. Oak was carried downstream to the Thames for use in shipbuilding and corn brought back upstream for the mills along the waterway (thanks National Trust for the historic details).

After 72 hours the canal was still unpassable, so we turned around and moved back onto the Thames where we’re waiting to see if we’ll have time to get back on the Wey before the weather becomes too unpredictable for us and our little boat.

So, 72 hours, 4 miles and 4 locks…that’s not a lot of time or distance and yet, it was quite magical in parts, and quite drearily wet and sandy in others.

Magical smoking nettles puffing gently into the late morning air. I swear they smoke more if you don’t look at them directly.

The Navigation is part man-made canal and part river; the lock gates are ancient and heavy, the locks are deep and the water flow when filling is jaw-droppingly powerful - and the 1653 heritage plaques made me stop and think.

After Coxes Lock it’s very much like pootling gently down a country stream wth ancient oaks lining the towpath on one side and lilypads crowding the water’s edges. Ratty, Toad, Badger and Mole would fit in very well here although the wildlife was actually pretty scarce - an unexpected cormorant, some coots and ducks by the millpond at Coxes Lock and one family of swans. Maybe the rest are stuck on the other side of the fallen trees.

To interrupt this pastoral idyll, let me introduce the M25 that roars overhead and below it, the official toilet-emptying station - a perfect match, you could say.

Sand, sand and rain…I’d not realised how sandy this part of the country is and as everyone who’s ever set foot on a sandy beach knows, sand gets everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. The towpath is basically one long sandy way, albeit slightly less sandy now as so much of it made its way inside the boat, trapped in the mooring lines, on the roof, in the cratch…

Hopefully the trees will be cleared soon and we can continue right to the end of the River Wey Navigation - I am keen to see what other wildlife there is on it, keen to see if the sand runs out at any point, and above all keen to see family that are so close and still so far.

This week’s pub recommendation is from the river Thames (not enough time for proper research yet on the Wey!) - the Red Lion on the river at Shepperton was a gem of a find. They have private moorings, excellent service, extremely fine food (there’s a great chef with a deft but light touch in the kitchen) and the best house wine I’ve had in a long time. www.redlionshepperton.com

Take care everyone, and stay dry!

Phil xx

my 'itinerant photographer' website is launched!

As an itinerant photographer (or simply someone working on yachts overseas with a camera ever to hand), there never seemed to be the time to stay still, take stock and, for example, build a website to showcase my work. Around this time last year, when my husband and I realised what everyone does sooner or later, namely that life’s too short to live to someone else’s demands, we bought a narrowboat, moved back to England and started travelling on our own terms.

When the towpaths muddied over and ice started creeping into the puddles, we came back to our house in south Somerset to tidy it up, pack it up, and sell up. Before part 3 of this master plan was complete, the world and England’s canals had closed down.

I’m by nature an irrepressibly optimistic person and can’t help but find good in amongst the bad. So one result of my enforced lockdown and isolation is this website, the building of which has fried my brain in the most pleasurable way. My solitary walks along the ancient footpaths and rarely-visited woodlands on my doorstep let me experience my first British spring in decades - who knew it could be so green and lush and inspiring? Many of the intimate flora photographs on the website were taken on these walks.

You’ll get to know more about me, my photography, where I’ve been and where I’m going, in other blog posts - in the meantime, thanks for your time, I hope you like the photos and the stories, and I hope you’re staying safe

Phil xx

ps

I’m female and Philippa, but most people except my husband call me Phil