WORK ON WATER
FIONA WHITTY finds it’s moor the merrier on a narrowboat in Wales
We felt like we were drifting in mid-air, terrified and exhilarated in equal measure.
Fiona Whitty on crossing the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, left
A THREE-inch-wide ledge was all that lay between us and a formidable drop of more than 100ft.
As our narrowboat inched along the highest canal aqueduct in the world, I almost envied the pedestrians strolling along the towpath to one side of us.
As well as incredible views, they at least had the safety of a row of railings to stop them toppling over into the River Dee beneath.
No such barrier existed on our other side and we felt like we were drifting in mid-air, terrified and exhilarated in equal measure.
We were crossing the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, a feat of engineering built at the turn of the 19th century to carry the Llangollen Canal 126ft over the Dee. Now Grade I-listed, it’s also a Unesco world heritage site.
Located near Wrexham, the 1,007ft aqueduct – the longest in Britain – was the work of engineering king Thomas Telford, aided by William Jessop, and took 10 years to build.
Crossing it was a baptism of fire for us, coming just minutes after we’d picked up a gleaming navy narrowboat called Fitzroy from Anglo Welsh’s Trevor base next door.
The aqueduct is single file. So before you cross you have to pause long enough to make sure no one is coming your way – not an easy feat when you’re on a 65ft long boat. We soon discovered that the crossing, which took around 11 minutes, wasn’t the only early hurdle.
Minutes later came a swing bridge and we had 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 threeday 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 with plenty to see and 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 – 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 while cyclists waved and passengers on other boats gave us cheery hellos.
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, slowly edging 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 to 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. Signs had 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 710ftlong Chirk Aqueduct – not as long and terrifying as Pontcysyllte but still a force to be reckoned with. By the time we moored up 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.
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.