George's blog

I am sat on the sofa in my comfies. The wind is whistling outside, incense is burning and I am sipping on a peppermint tea. Relaxing, yes? I gaze down at my hands. The rope burns tell a different story…

It is Monday. The remnants of Hurricane Lee are sweeping across the South of England and we are destined to endure a battering for the next 24 hours. This is my third almighty storm whilst living aboard Poohsticks [Definition: ‘Almighty storm’ – winds over 50mph and at least one personal possession lost to the canal]. The first almighty storm was endured in March. This was back in East London. The ground was shallow and also damp from the rain. My mooring pins stood no chance. This was remedied by placing large bags of coal over the rope to keep it in place. The boat just about stayed put. The same unfortunately could not be said for my neighbour’s boat, which I rescued from the grip of the wind on two separate occasions. The second instalment of the almighty storm trilogy took place in April. I was in Haggerston and moored in a rather precarious fashion. The towpath was concrete so mooring pins were no good. All I had at my disposal was rings and bollards. One advantage of such an arrangement is that it is much harder for a bollard to be ripped clean off the ground than it is for a pin to be dragged from the soil. The disadvantage is that these supports exist in set locations. When you are in London, you accept that you will be mooring your boat in parallel to a (hopefully friendly) neighbouring boater. We call this double mooring. This further limits your selection of tying points, as in many cases, your ropes will not reach the desired bollard. In this particular spot, I had to moor with my centre line [Advice: do not moor with your centre line].

Boats rock. It is a fact. A question some folk ask me is at what angle must a boat tip in order for items to come off the shelves? A perhaps more useful question is under what circumstances will you achieve such an angle? I reiterate, do not moor with the centre line. It is attached to the top of the boat. When you are struck with an almighty gale and the ropes keeping you against the bank go taut, ask yourself what will happen if said rope is attached to the top of the boat. There is a force pushing the centre of the boat away from the bank and a counterbalancing force from the rope pulling the boat towards the bank. This creates a net rotation force, or torque, as a physicist would refer to it. A large enough torque will capsize your boat.

This is my third almighty storm. The winds today are allegedly hitting 50mph and I am moored right beneath a very flat, open reservoir. They say that if the Earth stopped spinning, the atmosphere would have nothing to stop it and the planet would be ravaged by winds strong enough to rip houses from the ground and send women in rocking chairs souring into the sky (yes, it’s a Wizard of Oz reference). I imagine today to be something like that. The draft from the gap at the bottom of my side hatch is strong enough that one could blow dry their hair by standing in its path. I seal the gap with yesterday’s socks. A group of about a dozen ducks park themselves outside my kitchen window, only on this occasion, they’re not after frozen peas. They are using the boat as a wind shield. It is not a good day to be a duck.

It is 9am and I can feel the boat rocking. My ropes are fastened tight, so this is out of the ordinary. I amble onto the towpath to inspect my mooring pins. As expected, the force of the wind on the boat has dragged the front pegs a decent foot through the soil, hence the rocking. The soil is soft from the weekend’s rain and is no match for the joint efforts of 50mph winds and a 12 tonne boat. I arrive at the right time. The pins resign themselves to the elements and are lifted clean into the air. The existing length of rope between the pins and the boat will not be enough for me to wade this tempest. With haste, I leap aboard the nose of the boat and quickly untie the loop. I jump back onto the towpath and start to pull. I stand no chance. I feel the rope slipping between my fingers (though grating is probably a more accurate word). Two passersby kindly join the effort. Together, we pull. We are able to reel the vessel back in during the gaps between the gusts, but there is still the matter of sliding off the mooring pins and re-hammering them into the ground. Dave, a man of 73, is trooping down the towpath. He is a Canal and River Trust volunteer. His trademark blue shirt and red life jacket serve as a hero’s cape in this moment of despair. Dave will know what to do. He directs the two kind helpers as I hammer the pins in and proceed to bounce back aboard and retie the knot. The hammering was no picnic and took a few attempts as the wind continued to offer a fight. Another man of 73 comes to assist (why is everyone 73 today?) and Poohsticks is secured. The gap between the bank and the boat is substantial, but, with the backing of Dave, I daren’t attempt to retie any ropes until the winds die down.

I will spend the rest of my day persistently checking the pins, ensuring the ground is providing enough fight against the might of the storm. At this current time, there is a gap of no less than 10cm in the wake behind one pin securing the stern of the boat. Poohsticks is safe for now, but the storm continues and the battle is not over yet.