Work on water
Fiona Whitty finds it’s moor the merrier on a narrowboat in Wales
crossing, which took around 11 minutes, wasn’t the only early hurdle.
Minutes later came a swing bridge, which entailed us having to moor up while one of us jumped off and wound it up.
It’s little wonder that the Llangollen Canal is a particular favourite with narrowboaters.
As well as picturesque scenery, the stretch we were navigating is well known for interesting challenges like these – during our three-day trip we were going to be treated to a second aqueduct, two tunnels and a couple of locks. And the same again in reverse.
Before we’d left Trevor, the Anglo Welsh staff had helped us plan a route that would give us plenty to see but leave us with enough time to chill.
My partner Tim and I had taken a couple of deckhands on board to help out – our son Freddie and his friend Archie, both 14.
This was slow travel in its purest sense – the boats have a top speed of 4mph. At times the only noise we could hear apart from the gentle chug of the engine were honks from Canada geese. Walkers and cyclists waved while passengers on other boats gave us cheery hellos. But there was plenty to keep us all on our toes too.
The canal twisted and turned, narrowing to barely more than our own width at times, and at bridges – invariably narrow and on a bend – we often played a game of cat and mouse where we’d slowly edge closer while clinging to hope that another boat wasn’t coming the other way.
And then came the tunnels. At just under 200 yards long, our first one – the Whitehouse Tunnel – was a handy warm-up to the biggie further along, the mighty Chirk Tunnel, nearly two-and-a-half times the length. They’re single file so the challenge is making sure there’s no one else coming the other way before you enter. It’s not always easy.
At Chirk we hovered at the entrance, peering into the darkness to try and spot any tell-tale headlights. Instead we picked out six or seven tiny lights and a faint murmur of voices. Confused, we decided to stay put – only for a raft of brave and very cold young kayakers to emerge 20 minutes later.
When we finally edged ourselves in it was eerie, with drips of water bouncing off our faces and voices echoing. We could see very little bar the ever-widening dot of light at the far end and were pestered by a fear that we’d made a mistake and another batch of kayakers were wheedling their way towards us.
Signs at the entrance informed us we’d take around 10 minutes to travel through. It felt like hours.
With some relief we eventually emerged at the other end but we couldn’t relax for long… right ahead of us lay the 70ft high and 710ft long Chirk Aqueduct – not as long and terrifying as Pontcysyllte but still a force to be reckoned with. By the time we moored up for the night after about three hours of chugging along, we felt like we’d earned the rest.
You’re allowed to moor up pretty much anywhere along the towpath side of a canal as long as it’s not near a hazard such as a lock or bridge or on private land. We chose a quiet spot within walking distance of the Bridge Inn near Chirk, where we enjoyed their signature giant hot dogs overlooking the aqueduct.
Our boat was a fine specimen. Just eight months old, it had four distinct areas – two ensuite bedrooms with sliding doors at either end for privacy, a kitchen with oven, hob, microwave and fridge freezer and a lounge with table and armchairs.
It felt a bit like the Tardis, with every inch of space cleverly used. At night we were lulled to sleep by the silence. I never knew anywhere could be so quiet.
Next day our teenagers made light work of the two locks. Every so often we’d moor up for a cuppa or a leg stretch. We started the journey back the next day, more competent and relaxed at the helm. And second time round we could actually soak up the amazing views from the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct… but only if we didn’t look down.
We were lulled to sleep by silence. I never knew it could be so quiet