My true narrowboat experience, Discovering the nitty-gritty of the Avon Canal

Traveling on a narrowboat is an adventure, especially if you are an American who does not know anything about them. Let me share with you my experiences, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

My husband’s parent’s shared enticing stories of their times traveling up and down the Rhine River, drinking wine and eating cheese with other fun couples, parking for the night, and riding their bikes to enjoy an unforgettable dinner. Sounds amazing right? Well, that was not quite our experience.

For years my husband asked if we could take a trip like the ones his parents loved so much. At the time all our friends had small children and couldn’t leave for a week or two in Europe. So, our narrowboat journey would be just us, him at the wheel and me operating the locks and swing bridges up and down the canals. I started planning the upcoming January vacation a bit reluctantly. You heard correctly, we did this trip in January!

I decided England was the best choice for our first time on a narrowboat, especially as we might need some guidance along the way. We settled on an Avon Canal round trip of four days and three nights that began in Bath. This section of the canal has two aqueducts, three locks, and six swing bridges and has become a popular holiday excursion in England. There were many companies to rent from and different options for boat size and layout. I booked the smallest, a 2 berth, with one cabin, a double bed, a small kitchen, toilet, and shower. The layout looked like it would be cozy but with everything we needed.

First day on the boat

With great anticipation, we met the boat owner in Bathampton, a village 2 miles east of Bath. The gentlemen gave us instructions on how the boat worked, and how to open the locks and use the swing bridges.

He then gave us the tour of the boat, it had a nice little kitchen, a small seating area with a table, and a TV. A narrow hallway led to a bathroom, which not surprisingly was very small with a tiny shower, sink, and toilet. Up to this point, I had not thought much about how plumbing works on a boat. I quickly learned we needed to remove the container under the toilet when it was full and empty it at designated areas along the route. Our guide also showed us how to fill the shower head with water if we ran out part way through the trip. Then I swallowed hard when he showed us the bed, it was so short and narrow I wasn’t sure we would fit! But I smiled and thought to myself, “this will be interesting”.

We untied the narrowboat, started up the engine, and pushed off just as the sky opened up and delivered a torrential downpour. Most narrowboats have an open portion at the rear where you can stand and steer. It is really the only way to travel down the canal, standing up so you can see over the boat while you steer with a stick-like throttle.

Even though it was raining cats and dogs, I did not want to sit alone inside the dark cabin. So we both stood outside in the rain as the boat crept along the canal. Narrowboats only go about 3 miles an hour, and the top speed limit on the canal is 4 miles per hour. That night we had planned to moor (tie up) the boat close to Cross Guns Avoncliff, a pub just past the Avoncliff Aqueduct, but that was still 2.5 hours away.

Aqueducts

Aqueducts are manmade bridge-like structures designed to carry large amounts of water or a canal across a river or valley. The two we crossed, the Dundas and Avoncliff Aqueducts, go over the River Avon and have been in use since 1801. Both are amazing to see and it is very fun to look over the boat and see the canal you are traveling on crossing over a large river; water passing over water. There were sharp turns before and after the aqueduct crossings, the only turns we had to make on the canal. And yes, we did crash into the wall on one of the turns. Luckily the boat only got a scratch and it didn’t seem to bother the owner.

Mooring for the night

By the time we reached our planned mooring, it was twilight and we were wet, tired, hungry, and anxious about tying up the boat correctly.

We found a spot and jumped ashore. The sloping space between the stone canal wall and the towpath was 4 feet wide and looked like wet grass. But when I jumped out I found it was actually mud. I slipped and slid trying to keep myself upright and ended up covered in mud from head to toe.

We secured the boat and Bill and I climbed back into the cabin and discovered water on the floor. I must not have closed the door all the way and the rain had come down the steps and into the cabin. We mopped up the water with the only two towels on board, leaving the towels wet and us still wet. At this point, there wasn’t much to do but laugh, try to scrape the mud off, and head to the pub.

The pub was a very welcome sight with its warm fires, 16th-century stone walls, and low-set wooden beams. It was like heaven. Bill had some much-needed fish and chips and I had the steak and ale pie. I could have spent hours sitting by the crackling fire drinking wine, but Bill was exhausted and wanted to go to bed.

The boat owner had not spared any expense on the bed linen and mattress, they were really nice and very much appreciated. But when we climbed into bed the reality set in. I am 5’3 and could barely lay flat, but Bill is 6 feet and so had to sleep curled up on his side. With the bed being so narrow we had to spoon in order to actually fit in.

After a trip to the interesting toilet, I walked down the soggy hallway and seemed to sink about half an inch, squishing water with every step. I crawled into bed and lay next to Bill, huddled together in our awkward spooning position. I could not hold back the tears. I thought I was crying silently but suddenly Bill said, “It’s ok, we can get a hotel tomorrow”. From that point, everything changed!

Day two on the boat

We both woke up in a great mood and could breathe deep knowing we were not going to have to repeat the night before.

The kind owner of the boat had left us eggs, bacon, bread, butter, and homemade jam for breakfast on the first morning. While devouring our breakfast we recounted the night. We had both been miserable and cramped in the bed, and were still so muddy with no easy way to get new towels. But we decided we were going to turn this trip into a true adventure and see what the next few days would bring. We would continue on with good attitudes, no expectations and no goals besides having a good time.

With a new sense of freedom, we were excited to get going. We put our muddy but dry clothes back on and climbed out of the cabin and back into the pouring rain. I grew up in England and have visited many times so I know how rainy it can be, but it was crazy having two days in a row with this degree of forceful wind and rain. We decided we were only going to do what we wanted to, and with positive attitudes, we untied the boat and were off.

First lock experience

We had read a lot about operating the locks and the mechanics of opening and closing the locks seemed straightforward. I even lifted arm weights for a month before we left, just to be sure we were prepared.

When we approached the first lock, Bill slowed down enough for me to jump out of the boat onto the path beside the canal. He had the more difficult job of steering the boat into the canal and trying to center it in the middle so the water pressure would not slam the boat into the sheer rock walls when he entered the lock. But before he could do that, I made my way to the lock gate and located the L-shaped windlass (lock key) and spindle, then used them to crank open the front or back panels depending on if the water was on the full or empty side.

There is a process for maneuvering the boat all the way through the lock:

Set the lock

Open the gate

Guide the boat into the lock

Close the gate behind the boat

Open the panels for water to fill the lock (that was where I struggled)

Exit the lock

Close the gates

This was the first lock I opened with more to follow.

To open the gate I put my back against the long wooden beam attached to the underwater metal gate, then using the strength in my thighs I walked backward for about two minutes, and with some moderate effort, the gate was open. The first major step was complete, how hard could the next one be?

The next task was opening the panels to fill the lock with water. I put the key into the spindle and started to crank…nothing. It did not move! I pushed and pushed but using all my body weight it still only opened an inch. I was using every muscle in my body even my toes! At one point I was screaming and pushing with all my might, while Bill was shouting from below “you can do it, you can do it”. Just when I thought I couldn’t do it anymore, enough water came flowing through the panels to start pushing it open without as much effort from me. I’m still glad no one was around to witness my struggle.

With water now filling the lock, Bill tried to keep the boat steady. But it moved back and forth so rapidly I was afraid the boat would slam into the wall. Time seemed to go in slow motion as I stood on the edge looking down into the lock watching helplessly as Bill fought the current. When the lock was about half full, the turbulence slowed down and it continued filling at a calmer pace.

Each lock takes about 10 minutes to fill, and about 2 minutes to open and close the gate on either side. But if you are new to this like us, you will need to give yourself extra time. We took about 25 minutes at each lock.

Exhilarated after our first lock, we laughed and sang songs. We did not care that it was raining or that we were soaked. We were having a good time and felt we could do anything now. Whatever came our way, we would get through it.

We only traveled 1.8 miles that day. We had planned on going further down the canal after lunch in Bradford-on-Avon, but the weather was so bad and we needed a break. On booking.com I found the most beautiful hotel right on the River Avon. So we moored for the night, packed an overnight bag, locked the boat up with the rest of our luggage, and headed for town.

A dream hotel come true

Bradford-on-Avon is a picture-perfect medieval town that sits along the River Avon. Weeping willows danced along the water and swans glided by. The streets were lined with quaint tea rooms, markets, and restaurants. Although, we didn’t dare enter any of them because we were soaking wet and still covered in the previous night's mud, so we headed straight to the hotel.

As we approached Timbrell’s Yard Hotel I was uncertain if they would let us in given the way we looked. But the lady behind the bar just took our muddy coats and told us to take a seat in the restaurant. I said, “I don’t want to get your lovely furniture all wet”, and she replied, “nonsense you look like you need a cup of tea”. I sunk into a large leather club chair and took a long deep breath.

We were shown to our room after a cup of hot chocolate and croissant. As we walked through the door my jaw dropped, the room was spectacular with large windows overlooking the river, an old church, and the sleepy village. The room had a fluffy bed with lots of pillows, two window seats overlooking the river, modern chairs with throw blankets, and a bathroom fit for a king.

Bill went straight for the shower, turned on the hot water, and climbed in with his muddy clothes still on. I was surprised but it was sensible. He took the soap and scrubbed his fully clothed body, removing all the mud. I tossed my clothes in with him and he washed mine too.

After my sweet husband did the “laundry” he filled the separate bathtub with hot soapy water and relaxed for an hour while sipping a scotch.

I on the other hand sat in the window seat wrapped in a fluffy white robe drinking wine and watching the swans floating by. I was in heaven. The only thing to tear us away from our new comforts was our growling stomachs.

We sat by the fire and had an amazing meal, Bill had the crackling pork and I had the salmon fillet with a creamy dill sauce. Our conversation was “why did we not do this last night”, and “this is the way to do a narrowboat trip”. Have fun on the canal during the day and have the luxury of a hotel at night.

Day 3 on the canal

We woke up to sunny skies and birds chirping. What more could we want for our last full day? Refreshed, we checked out of the hotel and headed to the Lock Inn Cafe where we had left the boat the night before. The full English breakfast at the cafe was a perfect start for the day ahead.

Our boat needed to be back in Bathamptom at 11 am on day four, so we decided to travel the 8 miles back in one day so we could have a leisurely morning.

Setting off in the sunshine with swans parting before us, we slowly made our way back to Bathampton, back through the lock, over the aqueducts, and through the swing bridges.

Swing bridges

A swing bridge can be moved or raised so a tall boat can pass underneath. The bridge allows a country road or walking path to be swung to one side so the boat can safely pass.

I really like swing bridges. There is something satisfying about physically moving a road. It seems like one small woman should not be able to do it on her own. But I did. It was another physical challenge for me, not as hard as the locks but I still had to put my back into it. The swing bridges we went through had to be opened by hand, but some of the busier roads have a key and you just push a button to lower safety rails and move the bridge.

At the first swing bridge, Bill pulled over to let me jump out and locate the bolt that held the bridge in place (I apologize for not knowing the name of the instrument used to crank the bolt undone, but it looked like a giant, bent wrench). I put the long L-shaped key around the bolt and started to crank. Nothing happened, was it rusted shut? I pushed and pushed, banged and swiveled, and finally inched it loose.

Then for the fun part of physically moving the road. I pushed all my body weight into the long wide handle and walked. The bridge moved to one side via a giant cogwheel embedded in the ground. Once it was open, Bill moved the boat through the canal passage while I waited to close the bridge again.

When we weren’t going through locks and swing bridges we enjoyed the scenery, gently cruising past quaint cottages, sprawling rolling hills in the distance, working farms, and walkers on the towpath. We enjoyed every minute of the day's journey.

We arrived in Bathampton in the late afternoon just as the January sun was setting. We moored up along the towpath and walked over the River Avon to The Old Mill Hotel. We booked a lovely room with a four-poster bed and a view of the active mill wheel turning up the water from the River Avon.

Looking across the river Avon at the Bathampton Mill Pub

After a quick shower, we walked back over the river to the Bathampton Mill pub. I loved this pub. It was nicely decorated in tartan and heavy dark woods. The food was also great and we shared the baked camembert, halloumi fries, and a burger.

After a good night's sleep and a full English breakfast, we returned to the boat with our overnight bags. We repacked our suitcases, straightened up the cabin, and emptied the toilet ready for the owner to meet us.

On reflection

We might sound spoiled or that we didn’t get into the full narrowboat experience. But we created a unique adventure that opened our eyes to new travels.

This was the most physically challenging thing I had done in my life up to that point (January 2018). Every muscle in my body ached, muscles I did not even know I had. The muscles covering my skull hurt, my toe muscles, and every muscle in my back, abdomen, legs, and arms. It took days to recover.

This experience changed my life, it may have saved my life. After this, I could not go back to vacations full of museums, art galleries, overeating, and general sightseeing. From here on our holidays would have to be about adventure, purpose, and a sense of accomplishment.

So, I decided to start hiking and lose some weight so we could tackle my husband's other dream of a long-distance Inn-to-Inn hike, or as the Europeans call it, a walking holiday. In the end long-distance hiking gave me fulfillment, happiness, and a sense of accomplishment that I did not know I had or that you could find on a vacation.

It's strange to think how the struggles of a narrowboat trip could have such an impact on my life, but it changed me forever.