The only giveaway in the darkening night that we are on water is a thin shimmering line; a reflection of the last piece of light in the sky. The surface is otherwise still and dark. In the distance I hear lambs bleating and a chorus of birdsong fills the air.

Alice Elgie living on a narrowboat

I think to myself that this is a place where I feel most comfortable. A place where I can remove myself from the rush of people, the noise of a consumer-driven life, the depressing opinions about the world that I see banded about so often. Within that deafening basin I frequently find myself scrabbling about, searching for a way to extract myself silently.

A moving life brings many benefits, and one is that there can be noise, but so too there can be silence. From urban to rural, people to solitude.

When sleep finally comes, it is the best I have had in a long time and I wake with enthusiasm for this slow watery world so often overlooked when tangled in life up above; a life of fast-moving roads, things to do, people to see. Here I can be safely cocooned in a world of soothing sounds…

Mindfulness on a narrowboat: https://www.foxboats.co.uk/mindfulness-on-the-waterways/

As I wind the paddle down on a lock-gate I am mesmerised by the clink clank of the catch and the sound of rushing water that transports me to my beloved sea. The banging of metal on metal as pins are pushed into the ground reverberates through me and is a reminder that tonight, we are somewhere new, and that tomorrow it can be so again.

I jump off the bow and grab the rope; its roughness is of comfort to these hands always reaching out to feel something that affects me, although by the time I have tied up and they have melded with the wet, they are cold and numb and in need of a warm mug of tea. I await the whistle of our kettle on the stove then sit and stare out of the window. Sometimes even music is too much; too intrusive in this world. Instead I prefer to watch the boats drift by and daydream to the gentle hum of passing engines… that is until the unmistakeable ‘pop pop pop’ of the single cylinder fuel boat draws nearer and we all spring into action.

The lady at the tiller, faithful dog by her side, calmly pulls alongside and wanders casually down the gunwale to fill us up with fuel. We talk of dogs and the rain, but are all happy to see brighter skies moving in our direction. As we sit back down and unfurl once again, I am – as always – astounded by the unmistakable slapping of water as a swan begins its long and arduous accent to becoming airborne, followed by the serene whistle of feathers as it soars majestically into the air.

Fuelling a narrowboat: https://www.foxboats.co.uk/faqs/will-there-be-enough-fuel-on-the-narrow-boat/

Tonight as I write up my notes I am urban again and looking forward to voices, laughter, friends and children as we celebrate May Day, but I feel a calmness knowing that in one seemingly small collection of well-rehearsed tasks — that simple untying of ropes and pushing off of bow — I can extract myself and once again be fully immersed in the sounds of the waterways.

Alice Elgie is a nature-loving writer who shares words about her wandering lifestyle through hold-in-the-hand letters and recorded reflections. aliceelgie.com

The post Sounds of the Waterways — Diary of Living on a Narrowboat appeared first on Fox Narrowboats.

From my narrowboat living room on this early evening of early autumn, I look out through my open door to a sky that merges seamlessly from cobalt blue at the top through to lighter blues, pale creams, yellows, oranges and finally deep red just above the darkened tree line. Geese fly in formation across the scene, their honking therapeutic in the otherwise still, drawing in of night. The long narrow strip of water stretches out ahead of the bow and its quiet inky ripples reflect on my ceiling… wavering, wandering lights.

autumn on the water – alice elgie

I wonder how many more evenings there will be like this, how much longer before we descend into the full darkness of winter. Already as I walk along the towpath to collect drinking water I catch the occasional drift of a wood-burner coughing and spluttering its way out of hibernation, forming streams of grey black smoke across the canal. There is something comforting about this departure from those afternoons spent lounging on the roof of the boat as we drifted along the cut during the long hazy summer. Perhaps it is the realisation that we can now begin to retreat inside — without question or explanation — to rest and recharge our jittery souls.

Looking for tips on how to capture these beautiful autumnal fenland sunsets near Fox Boats?

And yet there is too, a sense of melancholy in the air.

Some days I catch my heart as it mourns sorrowfully for the beginning of summer when we wandered along untouched towpaths where wild flowers and grasses grew in abundance, where we were able to crouch down within them and become better acquainted, ‘why, pleased to meet you Meadowsweet and Timothy’…

riverside cottage – tanya barrow

Times where we would rest in the cool shade of dappled woodlands listening to woodpeckers, feeling spongy moss beneath our fingertips and feet.

I think of the ‘Country Wines’ boat, their hedgerow creations crowding the deck, the chat we shared, the wine we bought – and then drank on a peaceful still evening as swallows swooped ahead, back when my heart wavered with joy knowing they were only just arriving.

This evening I watch them swoop low to the water and somehow my heart sinks with the knowledge that soon they will leave.

Fancy trying your hand at some birdwatching with the RSPB?

RSPB bird watching – jonny gios

Yet on another autumnal day I stare out of my writing room window and am immediately buoyed by this new season. Reeds shoot up ahead of me, swaying in the fresh breeze, interlaced with the ever-disappearing pink blooms of Great Willowherb. Tufts of grasses offer a brown hue and the first orange-tinged leaves are twirling gently toward the water’s surface like ballerinas pirouetting.

Suddenly I feel overcome with joy and wish I could bottle it: this feeling, this appreciation, this ‘in the moment’ of life, and I realise I am thankful that in this wandering floating home there are so many windows and (still) open doors that I am unable to ignore the ever-changing nature that spills in and — albeit sometimes reluctantly — brings me joyfully into the heart of each season.

Alice Elgie is a nature-loving writer who shares words about her wandering lifestyle through hold-in-the-hand letters and recorded reflections. aliceelgie.com

Photo credits: House on the river Tanya Barrow on Unsplash Bird watching RSPB UK Jonny Gios on Unsplash

The post Autumn On The Water – Diary Of Living On A Narrowboat appeared first on Fox Narrowboats.