The Language of Narrow Boats

I’m thinking about buying a narrow boat. Just thinking about it. But the process is taking up quite a bit of time. My wife is charting what she calls “his new obsession”. The symptoms include long hours reviewing the latest boats for sale on the internet; daily dog walks that default towards the canal towpath and a surfeit of new “boaty” magazines in the supermarket trolley. Not to mention an alleged “faraway look” when Timothy West and Prunella Scales are on the telly.

She’s right, of course. I am beguiled by the language and history of narrow boats.

I mean, just listen to this sonorous roll-call of narrowboat manufacturers — past and present — and tell me it doesn’t quicken your pulse: Chappell and Wright; Tyler Wilson; Coles Morton; Norton Canes; Pickwell and Arnold. Admittedly some could be joke publishing houses (shades of Snipcock and Tweed!) while others like Les Allen or Hancock and Lane sound like sixties comedians. But to the canalboat enthusiast — even a newbie like me — the names of these firms conjure images of some of the finest pocket leviathans ever built.

I’m intrigued by their differing characteristics. Tyler Wilson narrow boats, for example, are said to handle beautifully thanks to their long “swims”
— something to do with the way the hull tapers. Les Allen boats boast elegant curves. While Hancock and Lane are solidly engineered vessels with a slight tendency towards chubbiness.

Then there are the classic engine makers: Lister, Perkins, Russell Newbury and Gardner — marques that recall the lost oil age of British engineering. I’m gripped before I’ve even heard their siren ‘putt putting’!

Scanning the adverts on the wonderfully named Apollo duck — the website listing boats for sale — I find myself drawn to the woody idiosyncrasies of older boats, rather than the sleek elegance of the modern, bespoke vessels. It’s not just a matter of taste. A new narrow boat with a posh kitchen and wet room can cost £120,000 or more. A well-maintained, timber-lined old timer with more spartan facilities might be had for £25,000 — a bit closer to my price-range.

Hours idle by, like landscape past a porthole, as I compare and contrast the merits of the ‘Nauti-Lass’ and the ‘Narrow Escape’ with ‘Cirrhosis of the River’ and ‘Passing Wind’. Which was most recently blacked? When was its stern gland last packed? What news of its sacrificial anodes? There is nothing quite like an alien vocabulary to draw one into a brave new world. I’m mesmerised by bow thrusters and rubbing strakes; agog at cratch covers and the tumble home. [See glossary below].

Next month I’ll finally get some practical boating experience. I’m spending a weekend with an old friend — a narrow boat skipper of long experience. He’s promised an instructive voyage encompassing “mooring, knots and tasteful sea shanties.” I’m about to learn whether real-life experience on the canals will live up to my fascination with the language of narrow boating. Watch this space.

GLOSSARY

• “Blacking”. Every three years or so the steel hull of a narrow boat is “blacked” with layers of bitumen paint to prevent corrosion.
• The “stern gland” (I think) is a box packed with grease which encases the propellor shaft preventing the ingress of water.
• “Sacrificial anodes” are blocks of magnesium attached below a boat’s waterline to protect the hull against rust.
• “Bow thrusters” are additional, small motors attached to tubes at the front of the boat to assist steering.
• “Rubbing strakes” are strips of metal welded to the hull to protect it from impacts with the canal bank or bottom.
• “Cratch covers” are the tent-like, tailored tarpaulins which cover the sitting area in the bows of a boat.
• The “tumble home” is the inward-lean of the boat’s superstructure — angled to prevent it scraping against the side of bridges and tunnels.