“Don’t bother with the Arms” a boater once advised me as he was filling his water tank and I was cycling back from Waitrose (I don’t usually shop at Waitrose – I’m not rich). The Grand Union Canal is an almighty branch and on it there are two tiny twigs sprouting off around Marsworth. Firstly, The Wendover Arm – once a 6.5 mile stretch of canal to Wendover, now a 2 mile sort of river to a basin and a field of sheep. Next, The Aylesbury Arm – a 6.3 mile canal to Aylesbury which is just about still in operation. “The Wendover Arm” he explains “has nothing on it – it just takes you to a field”. This is meant to be discouragement, but I am already sold. In August, my brothers and I cruised down the Wendover Arm during a surprisingly nice evening following an afternoon of rain and moored up just in time for a beautiful sunset. As we arrived, there was a man foraging blackberries. He probably thought “7pm, the wife and I have got the place to ourselves for the evening – we are in holiday mode, what a triumph! Never mind, here come the riff raff”. As it happens, we were riff raff with Elton John playing and a glass of wine each. I think we could’ve come across as more intimidating. Next time, I’ll throw sticks at him. The Arm was tricky, but fundamentally very navigable. I lost one tomato plant to a low hanging branch, but that was it. We drank our wine, enjoyed the sunset and my brother herded sheep with a drone. It was not his intention. I think he was trying to film some nice footage. He succeeded.

Return to me cycling back from Waitrose. The boater I am speaking to points to his roof. There is a mismatched corner – like it has been patched up. He explains that he took a chunk off of his boat whilst passing under a low bridge on the Aylesbury Arm. This doesn’t discourage me, but I will be wary of bridges now. I cycle off. Three weeks later, I start my journey onto the Arm. It is 16 locks to Aylesbury and then 16 back again. This would be cumbersome alone. Luckily, I have a non-zero number of crew from start to finish. Voyage one – Caitlin and Olly. Initially bewildered by my (and naturally their) first ever stair case lock (the bottom gate of the first lock is the top gate of the next), we make it into the first pound. The locks are single boat width on the Arm. It’s very cosy. The first bridge is right after the lock pair and we are immediately hit with a dilemma: the boat doesn’t fit. The bridges themselves are not that low – I’ve cruised under lower, but they are arced and the towpath protrudes out forcing you right against the side. The curve of the bridge then becomes a horizontal barrier as much as it is a vertical barrier. Having already made Caitlin and Olly bear witness to me reversing once today, I fear that I will be putting them through this again, this time through two locks, which were difficult enough to figure out going forwards. Before attempting to execute this rather daunting plan B, we do what we can to fit under the bridge. Olly stands starboard to weigh the problematic side down and lower the boat where it needs to be lowered. Caitlin and I hold the ropes and pull the boat right over to one side. We tip toe under the bridge and are amazed to find that there is substantial room to spare. We learn a lesson that will be helpful on this journey. Right after emptying a lock, the water levels will stay high temporarily and then gradually lower by a decent couple of inches. In the time it takes us to devise our plan, this is indeed what happens and that extra two inches get us under the bridge. This is the final bridge of the day. We moor up two locks later and go to the pub and eat questionable pizza.

It is one week later and Jacob and Saskia come to help me crew the boat. There’s about four or five tricky bridges to do today. I warn them of this in advance. We learn that all bridges are tricky, but the ones you have really got to be wary of are those below locks. We encounter one such bridge. To be fair, there are worse places to need to pause. It’s a beautiful bridge. With me taking the role of weighing down one side, Jacob and Saskia pull the ropes and we tip toe under. We moor up in a beautiful spot and eat a hearty meal.

Weekend cruises are becoming a thing. James and Josie visit from Oxford next. The bridges cause minimal disruption and we develop a routine in which James heads to the front of the boat, disembarks unto the towpath before the bridge, takes the bow rope with him and guides us right over to the side. Josie keeps an eye on the mountain of tat I keep on my roof, such as bicycles and wheelbarrows, whilst I steer. James then hops back on when we are clear and we steam ahead at 2mph. The most difficult part of this voyage is the lock that takes half an hour to fill due to reeds clogging the upper paddles. The water never completely balances either side of the top gate and it takes all three of us to open it. Despite this, James says he enjoys the locks. As for bridges, he can take them or leave them.

Auntie Suzie and Andy join the weekend after. We have covered this one already. The long and the short of it is that the bridges behaved themselves thanks to the help of Andy on the bow. Last weekend was a different story…

My brother Tom and his partner Clare visit. It has been raining a lot recently and water is flowing over the lock gates. This makes me somewhat nervous. The bridges were tight before, but now the water must be an inch or so higher. Following an hour and a half walk, we set sail. There are no locks for the first 2km which gives us opportunity to get into our waterproofs ahead of the rain and rest after our walk. We reach the first lock. We moor up, I do a run through of the mechanics and we empty the lock and open the bottom gates. There is a bridge just before the lock. This spells trouble. Deep trouble. The boat does not fit. It more than does not fit – it is an inch too high, even with Tom, Clare and I all pulling the boat right over to the towpath. We are in a pickle. With some patience and perseverance, we make it through, scraping the brickwork as we do so. The second lock comes shortly after. This is the slow lock. I use the half an hour filling time to make us lunch – a nice hot dhal. With food in our bellies and warmed up with mulled wine, we eventually push the gate open and proceed. These first two locks took some time. I think Tom and Clare are now nervous that I suggested we do nine today. Nevertheless, we manage it and they take pride in their time of 57 minutes to complete the last five locks.

I am now moored shortly before the junction back onto the Grand Union. There remains one bridge to do – the bridge encountered by Olly, Caitlin and I when we first entered the Arm. The water levels are currently tame, but there is another potential problem. It will have been nearly three weeks since I last filled my water tank by the time I try to cruise under the bridge. The water tank is at the front of the boat. As it empties, the bow raises. When aboard, this results in the floor rising on a very gradual incline and sometimes creates the illusion that one is sinking. In fact, it is quite the opposite scenario. The bow of the ship currently stands nearly two inches higher than it did when the tank was previously filled (I can tell from the marks on the hull). Will I make it back under the bridge or will I spend an eternity trapped on the Aylesbury Arm? There are worse places to be…