Of castles and roses…where simple pleasures endure

Frid 23 When you fall off a horse (or a bike for that matter), the best thing to do is to face your fears and get straight back on.

For us, our canal boat journey in France was fraught with difficulties and rotten weather, so it is with a bit of apprehension combined with excitement that we pack for a weekend on the canal, organised by our good friend, Grant.

We travel by car for over an hour to the Shropshire Union Canal at the Bunbury Lock in Shropshire. It is here that we meet our home-on-water for the weekend – a dark navy, forty-foot long, steel hulk of a narrow boat. Owned by a colleague of Grant’s, we are lucky to be able to rent the boat for the weekend.

A short walk along the towpath and there it sits, waiting for us quietly in anticipation (thankfully facing in the direction we want to go). It has no name so it’s hard to think of it in the feminine, as a she. ‘Simple Pleasures’ come to mind should it ever need a name.

For boating on these canals in these long, extended, caravan-like boats is a simple pleasure… a long, slow pleasure where the rush of life slows down to a swish of water, the put-put of an engine and call of water fowl from the banks. At only 4mph, life couldn’t get much slower or simpler.

Our boat houses two sofas that pull out into double beds – one at each end of the boat, a kitchenette with gas cooktop, a mini bathroom with toilet and shower, and a pot belly stove.

We stow our gear and Grant starts the engine. Soon, we are ambling our way along the canal. The water here isn’t a pretty blue but rather a muddy brown. I am pleased to report that our loo does not flush into the river as it did in France, so we are eco friendly on this trip.

The canal is not overly wide, with just enough room for two boats to pass each other in some areas and in other areas there is space for boats to moor along the banks.

As we come to the Calvery Service Station (for boats), we glide past many moored narrow boats – it's like a solemn guard of honor with great, long, sleeping hulks on either side of our boat.

Curtains pulled, motors silent, no sign of human life and deadly quiet, except for the soft hum of our motor and the intermittent whistling of the swallows as they swoop above our heads and then fly at speed over the water toward us.

Our destination is by the Olde Barbridge Inn, where we will tie up and head to the pub for our evening meal. It takes just an hour to get there.

Living on the narrow boat is an experience; any sudden movement will tip the boat sideways due to its narrow-ness and length.

Our boat is small compared to others we see – some up to 70 feet long. The boats are steered with a tiller from the back of the boat, they take a bit of handling and manoeuvring, but with time and patience, this is soon mastered.

Sat 24 The sun is up and heavy dew covers the ground. The surrounding countryside is fresh and picturesque. I almost expect to see D’Arcy (Pride & Predjudice) striding across the field; his coat tails flapping behind him and his knee-high boots damp and shiny. He doesn’t appear.

Instead, Grant, Max and I follow the towpath to the little stone bridge and head back to the inn to watch the NZ vs France world cup game. The cleaners kindly let us in.

With an All Black win under our hats, we set sail for Hurleston Junction, where we turn right into the Welsh Llangollen Canal. It is here that we face our first set of locks – a staircase of four locks.

It’s both exciting and nerve wracking, so I choose to stay on land and help manhandle the manually operated locks – opening and closing the heavy gates and cranking the water valves open or closed.

The locks are incredibly narrow with just inches to spare on either side of the boat. It takes concentration to get the boat in and stay centred.

With another boat coming down the locks, there are plenty of people to help out. Everyone is friendly and helpful. It’s what we soon come to love about this style of canal cruising – its intimacy, its friendliness and its tradition.

We pass many boats, some moored and others motoring. We see the beautiful, the ugly and the unloved. Some are used for weekend breaks, some for one-off holidays (usually hired) and others are lived in permanently.

Many are decorated with folk art paintings of castles and roses (this is traditional). Most are named – Bumble, Little Glen, Morning Mist, Magpies Nest, Penny Lane and Water Baron are just a few.  

Our destination is the Wrenbury Mill, where we will moor for the night. But it takes nine locks in total and two swing bridges before we reach the mill.

Our first swing bridge is manually operated (needs to be wound up) and Grant takes charge of it while we sail blissfully through.

The Wrenbury Mill is also depot for hire narrow boats and where we find our second swing bridge – this one is automated with a turn of a key and a press of a button.



It’s a busy motor bridge – a gate has to be closed, traffic lights flash, people stand and watch, intrigued, while drivers wait patiently as the big boats amble through.

Grant and Max head off up the canal to find a big space to turn the boat so we are facing the right way to go back again the next day. Max is at the tiller as they do a four-point U-turn in the middle of the canal. Meanwhile, I check out a glass of rosé while waiting for their return.

We take our mooring for the night amongst a colourful line of boats that curves along the bank. Boaties wander up and down the towpath, dogs follow (one exuberant pooch even falls in the water) and wood smoke wafts through the night air as people settle in for the evening.

It’s been an amazing day. Hunger sets in, so we head off on the towpath to find the local pub for our evening meal. Ahhh, this is the life!

Sun 25 It’s an early enough start but we stop further along the canal to eat breakfast (fresh berry fruit and Special K) and enjoy the scenery. If we came up nine locks then we must go down nine locks to get back to our starting point and car.

With Max at the tiller, Grant and I operate the locks. Incredibly, we all get caught in a heavy downpour of rain as the boat lowers down in the lock.

I am grimly reminded of our time in a big French lock where we were caught in a horrendous downpour and thunderstorm. But this time, we are not alone to cope, we have Grant on this journey and that makes it enjoyable and fun.

The sun does come out again and as we cruise along the canal, we meet fishermen out for a Sunday fish – they line the banks, umbrellas up and all the gear you caught possibly want.

One even has a fishing rod that reaches right across the canal to the other side where presumably big, fat fish hide in the vegetation.

After all the locks are completed, we moor outside the Olde Barbridge Inn again to celebrate my birthday with a delicious Sunday roast lunch.

It’s 4pm when we finally reach the Bunbury Locks, stopping on the way to empty our portable toilet and rubbish at a boat station.

We take turns at walking the towpath to walk off our lunch. We can walk just as fast as the boat, if not faster!

We moor the boat, tying up securely, and unpack our gear. This is where this journey began, with great excitement in the air, and this is where this journey finishes, with a great feeling of satisfaction and enjoyment in our hearts and souls.

Simple pleasures endure… thanks Grant, for a great experience… what a great way to spend a birthday!