Victims of the speeding boater

I suspect that it's that time of year again, where activity on the canals increases so we all become (or maybe just perceive ourselves at some time or other) the victims of the speeding boater. writes John Howard.

I guess it's a mixture of people and circumstances that bring this about. There's the part-time boater or holiday maker, who's just spent the past six months hurtling up and down some motorway or other in order to make a meeting on time, or rushing home at the end of a busy day to grab some time with the kids before they go to bed.

 

A tall order

So expecting them to change the habits of a lifetime for just a couple of weeks a year is perhaps a tall order. There's also, as Ian Reid recently wrote, perhaps the technical excuse of the type of engine, the size of prop, the deep drafted boat, etc, etc.

There's also the poor old hire boater who hasn't the first clue about how many days it will take to cover the various circuits recommended by their boat yard, or their best mate 'who managed the Four Counties Ring in less than a week' (110 miles and 94 locks!)—They probably get half way through their holiday and realise that only by doing the rest of the week of 12 hour days at full tilt they might just manage to get their boat back to the yard on time.

Sudden jolt

These, and a million more reasons, are perhaps why many of these boats we see rushing by, missing the glorious scenery and the wildlife around them, might explain the sudden jolt against the bank as they pass apparently blissfully unaware of the moored up boater just relaxing and enjoying the peace and tranquillity, perhaps whilst savouring a particularly good Shiraz.

I must admit to being particularly anal about getting my fore and aft ropes at the right angle, and as tight as guitar strings, in order to pull my boat snuggly into my inflatable blue fenders in order to minimise the sway and crashing of the occasional boat in a hurry to reach its destination. (Stand by for a raft of emails telling me how this is completely the wrong way to tie my boat!—Look it works for me, right!).

Less effective

It's less effective in the wet weather, when you need to rely on mooring pins into a soggy bank—so I even resort to double pins (at right-angles to each other) to help keep me secured to the bank, as I've hauled so many boats back in as their mooring pins have been dragged out of the bank by the pull of passing boats—who as we all know suddenly increase their speed when the rain starts to fall.

I read somewhere that it's 'the journey'—not the 'destination' that's important—something that perhaps many have lost sight of with the pace of life that many seem to lead these days. It reminds me of a phrase my old doctor in Oxford used to say . . . "It's better to be late in this life, than early in the next." I think it's derived from the Hebrew 'It's better losing a moment in life than life in a moment'—There you go—a bit of culture thrown in for good measure (Answers on a post card . . . )

A couple of signs

I must also admit to having a couple of those signs that say 'Please Slow Down' stuck to the bow and stern of my boat. My logic is that if it helps make at least one boater a year check their wash as they approach my boat (and subsequently any others moored along his/her) then it was £5.00 well spent. I've also noticed over the past couple of weeks a raft of 'Tick over' signs appearing on the southern Grand Union. Maybe they were on sale at Crick or something?

Alas, as Dave Morrell wrote on Monday, I agree that the community spirit does seem to be lacking of late in certain quarters. So these days, after more than one lecture from my wife about how getting annoyed won't change a thing, I bite my lip and gently shake my head in the forlorn hope that they might feel the slightest twinge of guilt and show a little more consideration to the next group of moored boats.

Whacked him

I did let my resolve slip yesterday when I was forced to ask a boater if he had lost his skier, as the almost white water wash followed him along the canal banks. Midway through his slurred response his wife whacked him, so he slowed down to a gentler pace. I wonder how these people would react when faced with the Shroppie? A real test of control and consideration as one passes the 100+ linear moored boats we see each year as we head north to Chester.

As my best pal says "I'm afraid they walk among us." So we may as well accept that little is going to change by getting annoyed and frustrated, and perhaps after they've spent more than a week or two on the canals they will begin to realise, by being on the receiving end, that life on the canals at a more leisurely pace is actually really rather good.

We can but hope.