the slowness of barge life
And that’s usually how I like it. But I’ve just spent a week on a canal barge in Wales and maybe for just those few days, I enjoyed the shift; the quiet, the slow.
I started to see the value of a slow start. Not that we were laying in
all day, actually we were waking up with the gentle swaying of the boat, at 6 am usually
with the dappled sun streaming through the curtains and the sounds of the birds and the
ducks outside, but it was slow ad peaceful all the same. Mornings were serene.
The internet connection was bad, and that was something none of us had planned for. I had decided to wfh for the first three days, there was exam revision going on, map routing; we assumed we would just watch Netflix in the evening but it turned out that wasn't an option in the Welsh valleys. I tried, but eventually, gave up; and in that surrender, I found peace. Weird. Bad internet, surprisingly (or not,) did a whole load for my mental clarity.
I enjoyed my screen-free peace and not feeling guilty for it - I couldn't be online even if I wanted to. In the end I gave up watching my tiktok buffer and locked into knitting, dog walks, board games, conversations and just being present.
Knitting, I have recently gotten back into after my six month stint during lockdown. It’s a quiet, repetitive motion that gives my brain the soft space. At home, it is only, little ten minute snippets of peace during my working day, but 7 days on a barge with not much else to do meant I could stop for a half hour or 45 minutes at a time and really check out from the rest of the world.
I also
made quite a lot of progress for my jumper which was nice.
Dog walks gave ample opportunity to get off the slightly crampt boat and stretch our legs. What the Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal lacked in 4G, it made up for in beautiful views. The tow paths were well maintained, with he occasional pub along the way. I loved looking at the cute little stone bridges and all the spring animals with their babies!
One of my favourite things was standing out on the back of the
boat with Dan as he steered. Just the two of us, quietly watching the trees go
by, the water rippling behind us. There was something so peaceful about it. It just reaffirmed that meaningful connection doesn't require grand
plans - just presence.
With no internet once we had moored for the night, we had
to entertain each other in the evenings. We all sat down for dinner and then whether it was a quiz, board games or just chatting, the nights flew by.
I didn't bother with how I looked. I had to accept there was no hope of washing my hair and very little opportunity to shower so I gave up altogether by the second day. We took photos, but more for memories than Instagram - capturing moments as they were, unfiltered and genuine.
Returning to London, I carry with me the lessons from the barge:, the joy of simple pleasures, and the importance of genuine connection; and the knowledge that sometimes, stepping away from the chaos isn’t so bad.
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