LAST Wednesday I took time off – with the boss’s permission – to spend a day on a river barge with two of management’s good friends.
It’s not difficult to get a day off when you’re your own boss, but the downside is that you don’t get paid as you would in the safety net of the corporate world.
But it was a day I will remember, not least because soon after regaling everyone with my seafaring expertise (I have a ski-boat skipper’s licence), I promptly fell into the river. But more of that later.
Management’s mates, Victor and Eveline, did something remarkably brave at an age when most others are in fireside and slippers mode.
They sold virtually everything they owned and bought a 22m barge. They now are hardcore rovers, cruising England’s magnificent myriad of canals and living the carefree life of true river rats.
I was green with envy when we got on board as the barge, complete with interior oak panelling, is more comfortable than most apartments. The views they have from their bedroom cabin would cost a million bucks anywhere else.
But even more fascinating is the alternative way of life on England’s rivers that most of us have no clue about.
There is a whole inland cruising fraternity out there sailing thousands of miles of waterways along what were once vital arterial trade routes.
Much of the countryside has not changed since Thomas Hardy wrote Far from the Madding Crowd.
We did a leisurely cruise, stopped for a civilised lunch of trout paté and wine, and then cruised back.
The characters on the river are a colourful and unusual bunch. One boater moored nearby earns his keep dressing up as a Roman soldier and getting donations from tourists who think, perhaps justifiably, that he’s a looney.
Another makes a living catching crayfish, which aren’t quite the Thermidors that Saffers are used to.
A river crayfish is a measly 10cm long, and needs dollops of garlic mayonnaise to be edible, unlike their delicious tasting sea cousins.
Some of the quaint pubs dotted along the way are only accessed by the river, so the clientele is almost exclusively boat people.
The vessels themselves vary from the sublime to the ridiculous; ranging from classy Bayliners and ornate narrow boats to stationary vessels held together with string and rotting wood that barely float.
Punishing law-abiders
And there’s the rub. In England, it never fails to amaze me that only law-abiders get punished.
The Environment Agency, which controls the waterways, charge an annual cruising fee allowing mooring in any one spot for two weeks.
The whole cruising concept is to keep moving. If you stay longer, you may have your licence revoked. That’s for you and me.
There is now a growing number of river hoboes in aforementioned rotten wood and plastic tubs, never moving from an illegal mooring and living for free at taxpayers’ expense.
They don’t worry about rules, and if taken to court, they claim that their boats are their homes and they can’t move because their children are at school. This now makes it a welfare situation, and the Environment Agency can’t be bothered wasting millions on court cases in a system skewered by bleeding hearts.
So sadly around the bigger towns you’ll find an increasing number of tramp ‘steamers’ without any steam.
Thankfully, you barely notice them as 90% of the waterways wind through beautiful countryside.
However, a bit of wine was consumed during lunch, and a boat hook went overboard at one of the locks.
I was sent to retrieve it and used a fender rope to hold onto as I reached down into the river. The rope wasn’t tightly secured.
You guessed it; I went for a swim.
Within minutes the lockkeeper had lowered a ladder and I was soon aboard, dripping wet and looking more of an idiot than absolutely necessary.
The lockkeeper gleefully informed me that I was the first to go overboard this cruising season – although I certainly would not be the last.
So not to put too fine a point to it, on the Thames, I am a bit of a laughing stock.
