It may be snowing but it’s cozy inside the narrowboat

It is so good to be back on the boat.

It has been convenient to live in a house over winter. Easy to keep clean. Things don’t break as often. Plenty of space. But I have missed the boat.

The new kitchen was finally finished on Tuesday, so I drove down Wednesday with a car full of everything we need for a season – clothes, towels, crockery, cutlery, bedding. I am very pleased with the work the boat yard have done and they have kept the boat relatively tidy. Last year I had to clean lots of mould from surfaces. But this year a quick steam clean of the floor, a wipe of the insides of the cupboards, and we are fine. I have learnt that the key is to allow plenty of air circulation, so moving the bed away from the wall, having several windows open a little, and giving everything a good clean before we leave the boat in the autumn. All these things have helped.

I’m heading back to Scotland later, and then will return with Mandy and the dogs over the weekend. My plan was to get going early next week, with our first trip on the Lllangollen and Montgomery canals through Wales. But the forecast is that the current snow and sleet will continue all week, so I will have to do some pretty fancy negotiating to persuade Mandy that it is better to travel than to hunker down with the cozy stove in the boat.

Gongoozlers (people who like to watch the boats but don’t have one) often ask me if it is cold living on a narrowboat. You might think so because there is just a single metal skin and little insulation. But in fact they are very easy to keep warm and do not use much energy because there is such a small airspace inside. As I write this, it is lovely to watch the snow falling outside while feeling cozy and warm inside, with the boat very gently rocking in the wind.

But I have a list of jobs to be done. I would like to give the kitchen walls a quick coat of paint to make them look as fresh as the new units for when Mandy arrives.

I’m ready for the summer – in the snow. Are you?

Is this my last year skiing in the alps?

I didn’t learn to ski till I was in my forties. I was the kid that hated sliding in the playground, and saw nothing to enjoy in sliding down a mountain. But my wife really wanted to ski, and after several years of holidays that I did not really enjoy, I finally got the hang of it, and since then have loved skiing. We skied at least once a year until 2020, when we stayed in Morzine just as the pandemic was breaking. This week has been our first week on the slopes since then, as we came back to the great resort of La Plagne.

The view from our hotel

Last time we were here was five years ago. La Plagne is quite a high resort for the French Alps, with our hotel at 2100 metres, and the tops of the mountains over 3000 metres. At this time of year it should be guaranteed great snow, and back in 2018 the drifts were well over my own height.

This year has been quite different in the French alps, and just two weeks ago La Plagne was grassy hills and patches of ice. Fortunately last week it had the first big dump of snow, and so conditions have been good for us. But even then, by the end of the week the snow has been skied off on some of the steeper pistes.

When we started skiing, some of our favourite resorts were around 1500 metres, such as Soldeu in Andorra, and Courchevel 1550 in France. These days, even with artificial snow blowers, these are no longer great ski resorts. I feel that our days of skiing in the alps may be over.

I expect that for some readers of this blog, you may be considering me pretty privileged. If the worst that the global climate emergency brings is a change to my vacation plans, then lucky me. But it is still a reminder- a reminder that global warming is real, is happening and will change all our lives. Because it is progressive, climate change does not make the news every day, but it is probably the most important story in my life, and probably yours. I make no excuse for having flown here, and for keeping my gas central heating on when we get home at the weekend. But I have learnt to love skiing, and maybe this will be the last year with sufficient snow to make it work.

Has your life changed due to the climate emergency? Will things ever return to “normal”?

Learning to ski – again

My wife, Mandy, and I did not learn to ski till we were in our forties. It was at a time in my life when every year I would try something new. I learnt to fly a plane, to scuba dive, to do long distance walks, and to ski. The last two hobbies have stuck with me, but we have not been skiing since January 2020. Just as the pandemic was beginning we found ourselves in Morzine, France. We had great sunny days on the piste, and nervous evenings in crowded bars. Since then, lockdowns have prevented us having a ski holiday. More importantly, Mandy has had both her knees replaced, so has been very unsure about whether she will be able to ski. But we have missed it, so this week we took a trip to the “snow factor” artificial slope in Braehead, near Glasgow.

The very good news is that we both can still ski. Mandy remains a little scared that an accident could damage her new knees, but we have done the research and the risk is not really any more than with natural knees. She plans to stick with the easiest pistes (green and blue), but that is fine. Neither of us are into scaring ourselves on the slopes. Rather, we love the scenery, and the fresh air in the mountains.

So my next job is to find somewhere to go, with nice easy skiing for us both, and a few more tricky intermediate runs for me. Probably France – perhaps La Plagne, Les Deux Alpes, Morzine or Courchevel. Any thoughts from my ski savvy readers?

Nice weather for the time of year?

On Thursday morning I woke up to sprinkling of snow on the ground. Snow in mid May is weird even for our very variable weather in the UK. This time last year we were in a heatwave and I was sitting outside in my shorts. I have a friend who insists on wearing shorts from April to October. He also will not turn the central heating on during this period. For me, short wearing is only for the hottest of weather. We have had the central heating on all year, and we even had a proper fire in our wood burning stove twice this week.

When we are in our narrowboat, cold mornings are a treat for me. It is a admittedly a shock to get out of a cozy bed, but a dash to the stern of the boat to turn the heating on, and within 40 minutes we are warm again. In mid-winter I love the sound of the ice cracking around the boat. Throughout the year, I love the mist rising from a cold canal as the morning sun’s rays first begin to warm the day.

I am missing the sun. In previous years I could travel to warmer countries, either with work, or for holidays. Since the first lockdown, that has all gone, and we are down to the vagaries of the British weather. I saw a post this week from a fellow Scottish retiree, who lives in Crete and was complaining about 38 degrees of heat. She got a lot of responses from here saying we could all do with a few days of that.

Ah well. It is the most British of past times to complain about the weather. I know there are more important things going on in the world. But snow in mid May?

How is the weather wherever you are?

What were you doing 12 months ago?

12 months ago I was in India . It seems a lifetime ago. When I was working I used to visit India two or three times a year and much of it became routine for me. But I never lost the sense of privilege and I would have an adventure to see a new place each time. A year ago it was Jaipur, the famed Pink City. It was very hot but also very beautiful.

Twelve months on, and I am no longer working, and certainly no longer hot. I still feel privileged, because near where I live in Scotland we have beautiful countryside and the snow has made it even more energising. But I do often wake up and think of a new adventure to go on, only to realise that the pandemic rules still get in the way.

I feel as if in the past year everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. We have all been through restrictions that I never thought would happen. We have all seen a level of illness and death that feel more like a war than a virus. But in other ways it feels as if someone has just pressed pause on our lives, and as soon as vaccines allow, we will all burst from our cocoons more eager than ever before to seek out new adventures and live the life that has been denied to us these past 12 months.

I guess in reality international travel is unlikely until the world has been vaccinated but even to travel in the UK would mean so much. I want to meet friends and family. I want to meet strangers. I want a hug. I want to be jostled in a busy pub. I want noise. I want to be able to get in my car or my boat and travel without a destination.

What were you doing 12 months ago? Will it be something that has changed your life, or a year to forget as soon as you can?

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