A Ghost Story

Malcolm Stirling is a reader of this blog and we recently chatted on email when I asked my readers what sort of topics they'd like to read more of. He was kind enough to allow me to publish this story he's written, which I think is pretty cool: and a lovely change to my usual articles.

***

Tethered to the canal bank near Rickmansworth Town Lock lies a large rusting relic of a Dutch Barge. It bears no name but is known by the local canal boat travellers as the “The Ghost Barge*.  Only the ignorant will moor their boats next to it and some even take a footpath detour to avoid walking past it.

The barge first came to the locals’ attention when it was purchased by a young man of about 27. He lived onboard and had started to renovate the boat.  One evening, after a hard day’s work he sat down with his supper. He had left the engine running to provide electricity for light and warmth. It was cold night and the doors and windows were shut tight to keep in the heat.   The exhaust system for the engine became defective and leaked carbon monoxide into the cabin. The young man fell asleep and never woke up.

The barge was later sold and the new owner set about the renovation process.  One of the first things he did was to have the exhaust system from the engine repaired and certified as safe. He then set about repairing the hull which  was suffering from corrosion. In the deepest  part  of the hull  lay concrete ballast blocks.   These are necessary for stability and ensure that the barge stays upright.  They were put in place during the construction of the barge. Once the ballast blocks are in place the decking and cabin are then added to the barge.  Over the years water had collected under the ballast blocks and this is where the corrosion was the most severe. The blocks needed to be lifted and the steel hull underneath cleaned and painted with rust inhibiting paint.  The man rigged up a hoist and pulley system to raise the blocks, one at a time, so that he could prepare the hull underneath.  It was a fateful day when the man was scraping the rust from underneath one of the raised blocks and the pulley system collapsed causing the block to fall and crush the man against the steel hull.

The boat was again put on the market and later purchased by a man wishing to make it his home.  It was on a winter’s evening when the canal was quiet and the water was still when a chugging sound was heard in the distance. The new owner was sitting on deck enjoying a beer when a large boat came down the canal at some speed creating a wash that rocked the boats on their moorings. He heard shouts of complaint from canal boat owners. He leapt to his feet and spun round to see what the commotion was about. The deck of his barge moved with the wash causing the man to lose his balance.  He fell from the deck into the narrow gap that had opened between the canal bank and the hull of the barge. The heavy barge had moved as far as the strained tethering ropes would allow.   The tension on the ropes could not be sustained and the barge began to move slowly and unyieldingly back to its original position adjacent to the canal bank and, in so doing, crushed the life out of the
fallen man.

The barge sat empty on its mooring once again. Local folklore had branded her “The Ghost Barge” and canal travellers wouldn’t go near it, let alone buy it, when it was put up for sale again.  Given the local feeling against the Black Barge it was felt that a local buyer was unlikely and so it was moved to a marina 100 miles away in Ipswich and put up for sale.  A buyer was found and the deal was struck.  The new owner knew nothing of the Ghost Barge’s past and set about his plans for renovating the craft and finding it a suitable mooring.

The renovation process has been slow and methodical. The owner still doesn’t know anything about the boat’s grisly past. But can you imagine the look on the faces of the canal people in Rickmansworth when they woke up on a cold November morning to see a thick mist heavy on the water and the instantly recognisable dark shape of the Ghost Barge solemnly tied up at its old mooring. Just as if it had never been away.

(c) Malcolm Stirling

This is a true story and was recounted to the author by two people on a canal boat in Rickmansworth on 3rd
September 2012.

Gongoozlers (name given to people who watch but don`t participate on canals).

The illustration is of a similar barge but not an exact copy.  The author did not want to have in his possession a drawing or photograph of the real thing.

***

Malcolm is the chairman of Rickmansworth WaterSki Club at the Aquadrome: a family orientated club, where visitors can participate on a 'pay as you play' basis.

Guest Post: A Village of Support

Last week I was approached by Heather, who asked if she could share her story on my blog. While my blog is mostly about narrowboating, it is also about parenting. Heather’s story struck a chord with me because I wrote about cancer last year when my friend died suddenly; leaving two young daughters behind.

My Mesothelioma Journey – A Village of Support

“It takes a village” is a recurring phrase that describes the responsibility and communal commitment to raising a child. I had a chance to experience a “village” with the birth of my daughter, Lily, on August 4, 2005.

My pregnancy was relatively uneventful with no complications, until my unexpected emergency C-section during delivery. Many family and friends surrounded me, including my parents and my husband’s family, to welcome our new baby and to wish us well. Everything seemed fine, but nothing could prepare us for the storm that was about to come.

Within a month of returning to work full-time, my health went downhill. I felt tired, breathless, and had no energy. I thought this was from being a new mom, but I knew something was wrong. I scheduled a doctor’s visit and, after a myriad of tests, we found the culprit.

On November 21, 2005, just 3-1/2 months after Lily came into our lives. I was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma – a cancer caused by asbestos that attacks the lungs’ linings. I was unknowingly exposed to asbestos when I was a child and 30 years later that exposure became mesothelioma.

My first thoughts were about my baby, not me. The news was hard to bear at the doctor’s appointment – I was told I had 15 months to live if I did nothing. I thought of Lily; I looked at my husband; I thought of the two of them living a life without me. I knew I had to do whatever it took to save my life, for myself and for them.

Mesothelioma has a grim prognosis, so we chose the most intense form of treatment we could. My husband and I flew to Boston to seek treatment with one of the best mesothelioma doctors. On February 2, I had surgery to remove my left lung and all of the surrounding tsissue, an extrapleural pneumenectomy.

I spent the next 18 days recovering from the surgery in the hospital, followed by two additional months of further recovery. I then started chemotherapy, and then radiation-- all of this as a new mom.

We could not have done all of this if we didn’t have the support of our village– the family and friends who surrounded us with love, support, and prayers. People, who we would not have expected, came to support us, while some we did expect support from, fled. The funny thing about this cancer is it really helps to weed out those who will be there from those who will not.

Lily stayed with my parents while we were in Boston. My parents, in this short amount of time, went from being new grandparents to becoming full-time parents to Lily.

It was amazing to see a village of support come together to help them care for Lily. The girls is used to babysit when I was a teenager – now married with their own children – volunteered to babysit Lily while both my mom and dad worked their full-time jobs. People I grew up with in church surrounded my parents with support and love.

While in Boston, we made new friends who shared the same cancer experience with us. This is how we managed to get through each day, with the support and love of the people around us.

Back home in my native South Dakota, my baby girl graduated to eating food and learning how to scoot and roll around. I had to witness her growth and development, though, through sketchy black and white copies of the pictures my mom emailed to me and my husband managed to print at a community printer. The nurses looked forward to seeing the new pictures, as I did, and we all tried to not cry. Lily was the reason for my treatment– she was the reason I decided to fight for my life.

As a family now, we try to embrace all that life gives us, because we know how fragile it is. My favorite quote is, “life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death.” Cancer is a funny thing– with the bad comes a lot of good. With my dire diagnosis, a whole lot of good came from it, and for that, I am thankful.

Heather Von St James is a 43-year-old wife and mother. Upon her diagnosis of mesothelioma, she vowed to be a source of hope for other patients who found themselves with the same diagnosis. Now, over 6 years later, her story has been helping people all over the globe. She continues her advocacy and awareness work by blogging, speaking and sharing her message of hope and healing with others. Check out her story at the Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance Blog.

Alice Griffin - Guest Posts on The Call of the Water

Alice (on the left!)

Today I have a special guest on my blog: Alice Griffin, a narrowboat wife. She is a mother, writer, traveller, dreamer, vegetarian, animal lover, seeker of peace, crafter and sometime gardener. On her blog Writings From the Wherever she talks about projects she is working on and connects with others… from wherever she may be... 

Over to Alice... 


The Call of the Water

When my family and I started looking into the option of living on a narrowboat, a friend said: “the winters can be hard, but the Spring and Summer more than make up for it.”

Right now I am writing this in my notebook sat on the roof of my boat. The sun is beating down, fellow boaters are cruising by and my daughter is peddling up and down the towpath on her bike talking to the ducks and geese… at this moment I simply cannot imagine a better way to live in England because for me, it is everything at its best: nature, friendliness and freedom.

We are in the first throws of Spring and winter is just a distant memory. Sure this winter was nowhere near as severe as last winter, but still I cursed to myself at having to lug big bags of dirty washing to the laundrette, thinking about what it would be like to just put the washing on in my kitchen and go about something else while it whirred away*. Or I would catch myself daydreaming about life in a house with rooms where you can shut yourself off in silence when rain is falling and family life gets too claustrophobic. But no, it’s not winter any more and as we untie the ropes of our mooring for the first time this year, I am reminded of all the things I love about boat living.

My hand-washed clothes are blowing in the breeze and there is abundant space on the doorstep where we can roam and find adventures along secret paths, in wide open fields and amongst the trees. I think that’s it for me, the attraction to this way of life: living right in the heart of nature. Each morning the air tastes more delicious and I feel more at peace as I lay still listening to the chaffinch who visits the window feeder or watch the Moorhens as they scurry in and out of their nest. The world is coming alive right on my doorstep and somehow, I am more aware of it than I ever was because it feels as though I am in some way cocooned within nature’s embrace here. And when I do have to do a laundrette run, it is no longer plagued by a cold walk lugging heavy laundry, to sit staring sorrowfully through steamed-up windows onto a dreary street. Now we ‘washers’ chat to each other with bright smiles as we watch our clothes go round, the Manageress plays guessing games with my daughter and we take breaks in the church grounds opposite amongst the Spring flowers. Somehow, now, I feel I would be losing a valuable people connection if I were to have a washing machine on my boat.

But as I write this I feel a sense of sadness for having emerged from another winter, but without the prize of seeing the first ducklings and moorhen babies outside my back door. You see, next week I will be heading off on a new adventure to the mountains of Italy where my family and I will be volunteering on a farm and although I will still be very much within the embrace of nature, I know I will long for my life on water, wondering when it will call me back…

* please note, it is entirely possible to have a washing machine on a narrowboat if you so wish!

 

Alice's book is an inspiring travelogue with practical tips: True stories of travelling with a baby. 

5 Things You Should Know Before Investing in a Canal Boat

Recently I've been battling with some of the financial anxieties that come with an unpredictable freelance life. Jenna White offered to write me a guest post with some financial tips related to buying your first boat.


5 Things You Should Know Before Investing in a Canal Boat

There are a lot of things you should consider before making a large investment like buying a canal boat. You need to make sure you are financially stable and that you will be able to afford the costs that come with owning a boat, but there are many other things you should do as well. While you may think you can afford to make this investment now, it may not be the right time for you. Make sure you consider all of these tips before you go make a rash decision and invest in this expensive undertaking.

Know Your Current Financial State

The first thing you should consider when you are thinking about buying a canal boat is your current financial situation. Have you incurred a lot of debt over the years and you are now struggling to pay it back? Do you have a problem with overspending or using your credit card to live beyond your means? These are signs that you need help getting control of your finances, and you may need to seek outside advice from a financial advisor or some other type of counsellor.

Set Priorities

In some cases, there will be more important things to save for than a boat. If you are in debt due to personal loans, student loans, or credit card spending, you should set those as your priority before you think about investing in a boat. Set a budget and use a specific amount to put toward paying off any debt.

Once you have paid off your debt, you should use that money to start an emergency fund if you have not made one already. You should have at least six months’ worth of expenses in this fund, if not more, so that you can live with that money for a significant amount of time should an emergency arise (such as an accident or the loss of a job). Always live within your means and save as much as you can so that when you are able to buy your boat, you can still stay above water (with your boat and with your finances).

Educate Yourself

When you have saved enough money to be comfortable, and when you have saved enough to at least make a significant dent in the total cost of the boat, it will be time to research your options. You probably already know a lot about the type of boat you want and any other special features you want it to have, but you should still educate yourself as much as possible. Never invest in something you don’t completely understand, and never buy something that you haven’t thoroughly checked out first. Even if you are buying the boat from your best friend, you should still take all of the necessary precautions to make sure that you are getting the best product for the money you will be spending.

Consider Your Timing

Is this truly the best time for you to buy a boat? As I said before, if you have credit card debt or owe the bank a lot of money due to loans, than this is probably not the best time for you to buy. You also never know if the price of the boat you want will go down in the future. This is where you will need to make a gamble. Buy the boat now and you may lose out on some money you could have saved, or wait a while and risk losing the boat to another buyer. Never fall in love with a boat you can’t afford, and be willing to walk away from an unfair offer.

Know the Total Cost of Your Investment

Whether you decide to make payments on a loan for your boat or save the money to buy it in full, you still need to consider the total cost of your investment. The total cost isn’t just going to be the purchase price, but it will also include the operating costs, maintenance costs, and other expenses that will come with the upkeep of your boat. Will you be able to afford all of these expenses over time? To answer this question, put all of these costs into your budget (leaning on the higher side to avoid miscalculation). This should help you make sure that you don’t take on an investment you can’t afford.




Jenna White is an author who writes guest posts on the topics of business, marketing, credit cards, and personal finance. Additionally, she works for a website that focuses on educating readers about secured credit cards.

Narrowboat Living Top Ten

A while ago I discovered another (blogging) narrowboat family who live aboard while refurbishing their boat! Mamma Earthly is a “creative, earth mother, vegetarian, food lover, tree hugger, yogi, off-gridding and travelling through life's many varied possibilities.” She has kindly given me permission to use a blog post of hers that I love, as a guest post here on Narrowboat Wife.

Narrowboat Living Top Ten

Inspired by Boat Wife's Motherboard Top Ten, I've wanted to write a post about boat living for a while. Recently I've been really struggling on board and have on more than one occasion expostulated "I want to live in a house!" along with a tirade on the myriad problems our water-borne home poses to any kind of sane living. So I thought I should write a "positive" top ten, but then realised that that may not give you much of a real idea about our day to day experiences - so here's a compromise, a well-balanced top ten: five good, five bad!


Cons
1. There's not much privacy on a narrowboat (especially on our mooring which is part of a World Heritage Site!). And people are pretty darned nosy sometimes!!
2. We have no garden or land of our own (other than the bit of towpath we're moored to, unofficially, where we can store wood and bikes, and have a few plants etc. So nowhere to decant the kids to easily on a good day unless really well supervised (which is pretty exhausting with a toddler). And nowhere for me to read a good book in the sun in peace :)
3. More than other boaters, we struggle for services as we have none installed yet. So we fill up several 5 litre water bottles every day from the BW water point and empty our cassette loo and have showers at a BW service block about 20mins drive away. We take our own rubbish and recycling to our nearest recycling centre, also about 20 mins drive.
4. Every space is multi-purpose, particularly at the moment whilst we're building, so our bedroom is also the playroom and "lounge" once the bed has been turned into a sofa; the dining area is also our "office" and everything else just has to fit in where it can! As you can imagine, this can be pretty chaotic...
5. Life is pretty physical and exhausting sometimes and as yet we have no "haven" like a permanent bedroom to retreat to when we feel ill or knackered or just need to mentally and physically shut the door on things for half an hour.


Pros
1. We own our house (though we are paying off a small loan for it) and so are (a) not tied to a mortgage for the next 30 years and (b) don't have to put up with "inspections" and other hassles from rental agencies.
2. We don't get post, which I see as a bonus as we needn't put up with tonnes of junkmail, bills and nasty letters from your electricity supplier threatening to cut you off. We simply get any important mail delivered to a c/o address.
3. On that point, we have no service bills, just our licence and mooring fees to think about. We buy our own gas and generate our own electricity.
4. Having to create/look after/buy/collect/dispose of our own services and used items really makes us much more aware and frugal as consumers. On average we use about 20-30 litres of water a day, have a shower 2-3 times a week and try to keep our washing to a minimum (which is easier said than done with kids and our lifestyle). We get a vegbox delivered to our boat and try to make trips to the supermarket as rare as possible (particularly as we can get a lot of what we need locally).
5. We can move our house! We have plans to travel much of the South West network and would love to go to the Fens, but we do need to find a few spare weeks or months!


Visit
Give an Earthly
http://giveanearthly.blogspot.com/
A little dell of sanity and positivity.
 

My Piece of Canal - Guest Post

In early labour along the canal path,
TENS machine in the little bag.

Firstly thanks to Peggy for having me. It’s wonderful to be given a space to guest post on such a lovely site. I’m Penny, the writer, blogger, vlogger, mother, wife and arts practitioner in residence at AlexanderResidence . My background is in teaching drama and film. My blog is a creative filing cabinet to reflect on the ups and downs of life with small children, and where life permits, life beyond them. I tweet at @Aresidence.

I thought I would share a piece of canal that’s very special to me...

Just before my daughter was born my husband and I moved from London. We rented a house on a new housing estate in the East Midlands, built alongside a now disused section of canal (at least for boats, it’s home to many creatures).

It was a huge shock moving from mulitcultural, bustling South London to a silent, suburban cul-de-sac. When I had lived for a short time in a cul-de-sac as a chid, my mother had explained the term to me as the ‘bottom of the bag’. I had an image in my head of being tied up inside a big black bag, and that is precisely what I feared estate life would feel like after London.

The little stretch of canal turned out to be the light at the end of the cul-de-sac. Suddenly free of work, heavily pregnant in the hottest summer for decades, I began to enjoy waddling alogside the ducks, down the shady canal path, to buy an ice lolly. In fact the short stretch of canal, bordered now at each end by main roads rather than locks, was about as much as I could manage by that point.

When labour finally began, I spent much of the early stages pacing up and down the canal path. I took breaks on a bench talking to my mum and my husband. They offered soothing words as we watched the swans guarding their nests and reflected on my slow labour.

When I returned home from hospital, some days later, exhausted after a long labour and an emergency c section, I measured my progress by how far along the canal I could walk . My city life seemed so far away. My world seemed so small. But day by day I pushed the pram a little further along the tow path.

After a few weeks I was able to venture over the main road and further along the canal into the countryside beyond, by then I also had plenty of friends with babies to walk with. I was starting to really appreciate life away from the city.

As the weeks passed, the swans, who had been busy guarding their nests, proudly revealed their cygnets. We watched as they grew from tiny balls of grey fluff, to graceful creatures who eventually took their first flying lessons. At the same time our daughter grew from a tiny newborn to a bouncing baby, and having found our feet too, we found the energy to look for a permanent home.

We moved into town, needing to be nearer to the hustle and bustle, but the stretch of canal is still on my jogging route. It will always be a space to be free, and a measure of distanced travelled.

My now 4yo daughter and her friend on a bike ride along the canal

Thanks so much to Penny for this lovely guest post. Pop over to The Alexander Residence to read more like this.

Would you like to guest post on Narrowboat Wife? Contact me.