Circle Line

It's all over

2009-06-08T06:50:00.000-07:00

The trip ended on Thursday 4 June. Apologies for the lack of posts recently - but things have been a little hectic and I lost my camera so no photos. The camera has now been found, so I will resume these posts at the end of the week. Plenty to tell, including the surreal experience of sleeping on a floating pontoon in the middle of the Thames at Westminster.

Rowing over the North Circular

2009-06-01T07:02:00.001-07:00

29 May: Southall to Ladbroke Grove; 6 miles

I didn't know I was under attack until I turned around and saw the swan coming for me. It started as a noise, but such a loud noise, I thought it came from one of the light-industry wharehouses that line the canal around here (Wembley). Compared with the old Victorian industrial complexes that line London's waterways, the new factories don't really look the part. Even if they are heavy industry, they manage to look, with their lightweight slabby buildings, as though they are merely assembling computers very vigorously. The noise was something like a helicopter's rotor blades starting up - whump, whumph, whumph, getting faster and faster. I looked back and saw a swan skimming along the water towards me, feet and wings thrashing the surface. It slowed to a halt, tired, a foot away from the side of the boat, starting malevolently at me. Being stared at malevolently is always more powerful when the starer is staring out of the side of its head. An ancient fear of battle with the beasts is awakened. The swan then puffed itself up big, like an angry cat and repeated the manoeuvre twice. The power of it was frightening, and I grabbed an oar in readiness to fend it off, praying, please, please, don't make me strike this amazing creature on its slender neck. I hate swans, but to have to do such a thing would have sickened me. Thankfully the swan eventually retreated, but I've experienced this since - it's hatching season and the birds are very protective. A second later, I was in the single most deserted spot I've ever seen in London; walls on each side of the canal, and a long island in the middle, tarnished by disuse, but still wearing some of the pride of its original purpose. Twenty feet below me, unaware of what was just above, the North Circular roared with cars, glistening and panting in a traffic jam as their drivers went to work. Finally, this was it. I'd rowed over the North Circular.

A call from Boris Johnson

2009-05-30T09:18:00.000-07:00

Two days ago, as I was ascending the famous Hanwell Flight of locks, my phone went. It was Boris Johnson's office. Could the mayor come sailing with me for a photo op? It was a bit of a surprise - but not entirely. I had lunch with Johnson's PR man a month ago (he's the one who has to get old Boris out of trouble every time he sticks his foot in it!), and we thought it could be an idea. Publicity (and a laugh!) for me, and for the mayor, a chance to be seen to be in favour of rejuvenation of the waterways of London - which I believe he is. Boris Johnson is far busier and more important than me. He's what Nick Hewar (Apprentice fans will know what I'm on about!) would call a 'big guy'. I am what Nick Hewar would call 'not a big guy'. So I offered to tweak my timetable to allow a photo op of me and BJ rowing. I will wait and see what happens on Monday. If he comes at all, I'll not get much notice, and perhaps he will arrive with a cavalcade of bodyguards in black cars? I sincerely hope so. Boris is quite a big guy physically too, about 16 stone I reckon, but it'll be fine if he rows, as he'll be in the centre of the boat, and I can squat in the stern. Anyone his size (or even my size) upsets the boat a bit if sitting on one side of it. And I wouldn't want to tip him into the canal - even though the publicity involved for me and my cause would be immense! Witness, after all, the news coverage he got from his near-accident on his bike. Watch this space as they say. Other than that, trip's going well, not much time to write anything interesting or thought-provoking. Lots of unexpected planning, most of it boring some quite cool ('permission from the PLA to transit the Thames Barrier' has a pleasant officer-class military ring to it...). Will update as soon as I can. And thank you anyone who has either sponsored me, taken the time to read these posts, or who is following me.

Photo: these are the bridges of the Acton Lane Power Station. An amazing contrast between new and Victorian industrial architecture.

DAY 1

2009-05-27T14:23:00.001-07:00

27 May, Surbiton to Brentford, 9 miles

Engine trouble, persistent rain, a handful of a boat for one person and a bit too gusty at points. Oh - and I hate rowing. The question presents itself? Have I gone on holiday by mistake? I'm not sure yet. I made the first planned leg from Surbiton to Brentford, which is quite comforting, in about the time I thought it would take. But being in a new boat on a windy day, and sodden - I had too many things on my mind to take the surroundings in: there is life on the Thames. That's the first thing you don't see from the banks. Some malevolent - dirty mussels growing on slimy lock walls, spitting water as the level goes down; dead carp half chewed in half from unseen teeth below. And joyous: the Canadian geese with their tiny chicks, a large black cormorant fishing; and at one point, a mammal diving. I only saw it for a split second - could it have been an otter? Photo: this is where the tidal Thames joins the Grand Union Canal: west London's equivalent of Limehouse Basin.

The dark river

2009-05-11T05:43:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows the Thames, at least the tidal section or 'London river', soon becomes fascinated by its deadly force. It might appear pretty from afar, but go close to it and you will see it sucking against pilings and bridge stanchions and surging through gaps, a brown blanket hiding decay and death on its riverbed. The river has changing colours and can sparkle on a summer's day. But the glints of light don't belong to the river. They belong to the world above it, and they flash a warning, like that of a poisonous animal. The sinister nature of the London River is something no witness could have failed to notice, and in fact this emotional reaction causes a distortion to the truth of how dangerous the river actually is. People often talk of undercurrents, and of the horror of falling in, and how you'd drown. There seems to be a preconception that the river is the stuff of nightmares with the unreal power to rob you of your faculties so that, once in, you'd flail around, mind poisoned, unable to swim or think rationally. As far as I'm aware, there are no undercurrents on a river like the Thames. I can only imagine undercurrents being formed by thermal layers caused by huge, moving bodies of water in the open ocean - like the Gulf stream. Unlike most people, I have fallen into the Thames many times and even jumped off the Albert Bridge on a hot summer's day. I have felt no undercurrents. What people don't generally realise about the Thames is that in summer, when the tide comes back in over mud baked hot by the sun, the Thames can be nearly as warm as a bath. There is certainly a strong current running in the middle of a tide - up to 3 knots, or even a little more on a fast spring tide squeezed through the centre stanchions of a bridge. The main danger would be getting swept under something like a moored barge, and I imagine this is how most deaths (including suicides) occur on the river. Nevertheless, the river does carry some scent of the many who have drowned in it over the years. Joseph Conrard believed the river, particularly its estuary to "appeal strongly to an adventurous imagination." He noted also noted the spookiness of being on such a black, industrial waterway, just a stone's throw from a city the size of London - but utterly alone. These days, the river is even more empty, and, allegorically at least, just as deathly: "It smells ancient because it is ancient. The water that flows back and forth over millennia accretes to itself the sweat of industry, the poison energy of progress and the tang of endless death."

Lying about films

2009-05-08T09:09:00.000-07:00

This is even more ridiculous than lying about books (see earlier posts). Saying you've read War and Peace is at least slightly impressive in a masochistic way. You've spent weeks, months even, reading a really dull book: you definitely haven't got ADHD. You have the attention span of a generation of readers for whom the only alternative was roasting chestnuts, singing Gilbert and Sullivan operettas or, if you were a child, playing with one of those stick and hoop combos old-fashioned children used to play with . But lying about liking a film?! On one hand, I'm inclined not too go on too much about how much I like the film Father of the Bride. I mean, it's a bit embarrassing - but it does embody the increasingly underestimated virtue of actually being true. At the same time I hate even more going on about 'impressive' films I like - so I won't. None of them is as good as Father of the Bride anyway... In truth, most of us like some films that are shit (and not just goofball, OK-to-like-it shit, but proper embarrassing, sentimental rubbish!) and some that coincide happily with a broader consensus of what's 'worthwhile'. It is therefore very suspicious that so many people seem only to like critically acclaimed films. They are the same ones who say they like Shakespeare, but are seldom, if ever, found at RSC performances. And never seen, 'Hamlet in Hand', so to speak. Spooky! Another strange fact: everyone I know has seen Titanic yet few admit to liking it at all. Or they only liked the TUFF bits - like the sinking of the boat! These are the people I really feel for. They were obviously expecting it, based on trailers, word of mouth and reviews, to be like Mullholland Drive. They must have been terribly disappointed to find it wasn't.

1. Mulholland Drive

I saw this with a bunch of people who were as bored, not to mention confused, by this, as I was. When the film ended, they all said they liked it, and I (poor fool!) said I didn't understand it! None of them could explain it strangely. They just knew that it was difficult, by someone named after cheap lager, and... they liked it goddamit. Because it's by Stella Artois. They particularly liked the bit where the woman was miming into a microphone on stage. That was my favourite bit too, which doesn't say much as it's one of the most cliched jokes/illusions of all time (the piano that plays itself, Top of the Pops, etc etc).

2. Battleship Potemkin

Oh pull the other one! Even the poster for it (see above) makes me feel as bored as a kid in a church.

3. Citizen Kane

Ditto. This is respected today for its ingenuity at the time of its production. But actually, life has moved on a bit since. Final Destination III is far better in every possible way.

4. Easy Riders

Folksy rot. Altough I do like that thing he does with his arm...

5. The Grandmother

David Lynch! Difficult! Brilliant!

I would like to add the Big Lebowski, which, with its wilfully surreal, 'American indie' take, I absolutely hate, but I suspect people genuinely do like it. My equivalent is probably Society, which I can only describe as a 'conspiracy melt' flick. It's probably pretty dreadful in truth and I wouldn't expect anyone to like it - or even to bother pretending they did.

Engels and the Thames

2009-05-06T14:50:00.000-07:00

Das Kapital is, of course, the big one: in fact, it would be a very good book to lie about having read (see Lying About Books, pts I and II, below). Less known is the work of the younger Frederick Engels, a peer (not a protege as is commonly assumed) of the great Karl Marx. Engels was, first and foremost, a journalist, and he was only 24 when he wrote his account of working class life in England in the mid 19th century. It is called The Conditions of the Working Class in England. I guess he thought a more mellifluous title would have been a bourgeois touch! I bought it recently (it's cued up at no 3 on my reading list), but had a peak at the front page, and was amazed to find a description of the Thames. When people think of the Thames, they generally think of Dickens as its master chronicler in fiction. Come to think of it, Dickens had a lot of the journalist about him too, although he wrote realistic fiction. Anyway, enough of my words: here is what Engels said about the Thames, presumably while sailing upriver:

I know nothing more imposing than the view which the Thames offers during the ascent from the sea to London Bridge. The masses of buildings, the wharves on both sides, especially from Woolwich upwards, the countless ships along both shores, crowding ever close and closer together, until, at last only a narrow passage remains in the middle of the river, passage through which hundreds of steamers shoot by one another; all this is so vast, so impressive, that a man cannot collect himself, but is lost in the marvel of England's greatness before he sets foot upon English soil. FOOT NOTE: This applies to the time of the sailing vessels. The Thames now is a dreary collection of ugly steamers.

It seems as though young Engels is seduced by the props of commerce; but in the next paragraph, the gloom sets in: "These Londoners have been forced to sacrifice the best qualities of their human nature to bring to pass all the marvels of civilisation that crowd their city."

I look forward to reading on...

Lying about books, Part II

2009-05-05T08:54:00.000-07:00

I raised the subject of lying about books in an earlier post. First of all, here is the link to the original survey: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/mar/05/uk-reading-habits-1984.

Apparently, the book most people lie about having read, and by some margin with 42 per cent of participants admitting to the sin, is 1984, by George Orwell. This shows a distinct lack of ambition! The book is a genuine page-turner, sci-fi (or ‘future-fi’ if you like), not overly long and not remotely scholarly or difficult in nature. The need to lie about it is, no doubt, at least partly a product of the Big Brother TV series, which goes some way towards explaining it: a lack of ambition in terms of TV viewing that leads straight to a lack of ambition in terms of the books you are going to lie about having read.

Next on the list is Tolstoy’s War and Peace, with 31 per cent. This is not remotely surprising; it’s ‘canonised to the max’ in literary circles, and prohibitively long. A couple of people who have read it tell me it’s pretty basic stuff – like a Victorian soap opera; but soporifically dull. They probably haven’t read it anyway.

This is followed by another giant of literature, Ulysses, by James Joyce (25 per cent). This goes into my To the Lighthouse category of self-absorbed, incomprehensible trash that actually, no one has read – so at least it’s a safe lie, as no one can ask you what your favourite bit is. It’s also the only one on the list I myself have lied about reading – but only under duress, as I was supposed to have read it (along with To the Lighthouse!) for an essay. So my favourite line in Ulysses is the only line I've read - something about a 'moo cow' walking down a road. York Notes, idiot's guides to literary novels, did a roaring trade that week.

Third, with 24 per cent, is the Bible. I’m surprised this isn’t number one. The King James Bible, which is the traditional one, is the single most unengaging book I have ever picked up. “Oh, but the prose of Luke…” mutter its fans. But even its fans don’t recommend reading it through, from beginning to end, as it’s too dull. As that’s the way I tend to read books, I don’t think I will ever get around to the Bible.

There was one book that I was amazed wasn’t at the top of the list – or near it. A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. It’s commonly regarded as the book which satisfies the ‘most bought, least read’ ratio most pleasingly. It has, since its publication in 1988, sold nine million copies, and although I’ve met many who’ve bought it, I’ve not met one who’s read it. I’m glad my friends are so honest! It’s supposed to be a ‘popular science book', and it is by turns impossibly dull and impossibly difficult to grasp. This is the top of my ‘Books I would lie about having read’ list. And just to rub it in, I think I would say something like “It’s good fun as a primer – you’ll read it in a day.”

Why sail around London?

2009-05-05T05:00:00.000-07:00

Thankfully, I haven’t been asked this. Some things demand no explanation. What I have been asked, from time to time, is: what made you think about it? Actually, it’s not an original idea entirely; people in narrow boats have been doing it for decades - though not by the extended route I am taking. It's not a new idea to me either – as I’ve already paddled around London in a kayak. The boat, a bright yellow, snub-nosed beast (a Roto-Bat for any veteran paddlers out there) was better suited to Alpine torrents than slicing easily and quickly through flat water. Nevertheless, we (I and others from my canoeing club, the Westminster Boating Base), managed this loop of 67 miles in two days. Christ, we must have been fit. If I were to try that today, I’d have a heart attack by the end of the first hour. This loop I am attempting is considerably longer, going much further east (all the way to the QE2 Bridge) and a little further west. I am allowing a passage speed of just 9 miles a day – and in a craft far better suited to the journey than that old plastic thing! I was heartened to read recently, in Peter Ackroyd’s Thames: Sacred River, that Ackroyd considers a journey on the Thames to reveal more about mankind than any trip on the oceans of the world. Well, this is probably true. I’m sure that a hazardous ocean journey would teach a lot more about other things though: like the one person undertaking it to start with. I was surprised also, on starting Conditions of the Working Class in England by Frederick Engels, to learn that the German Marxist/reporter is a big fan of sail and the Thames, remarking what a sight of industry met his eyes, of a sort unparalleled anywhere else in the world. He goes on to state his preference for the old boats of sail over the new ones of steam.

In fact, the river has always been a draw to great writers and artists. Turner and Dickens are probably the two best-know chroniclers of the river – both men were fascinated by it for different reasons. Dickens was drawn to the human drama and death the river represented, and Turner to its ever-changing light, something he struggled mightily to transpose to canvas. Roni Horn, an American artist and writer, has recently staged an exhibition of her work at the Tate Modern, on until 25 May. The ‘Thames room’ consists of a number of large photographs of the river (just the surface of the water) in different moods, with extended captions along the bottom. It’s amazing how different the water can look from moment to moment – exactly the same problem that Turner struggled with. Have a look at Horn’s work by clicking on this link: http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/ronihorn/default.shtm

Landing on the moon and other adventures

2009-05-02T09:22:00.001-07:00

When I refer to 'circumnavigating' London, it's with a dose of irony. The word 'circumnavigators' rightly belongs to brave adventurers of old: the the Portuguese crew of Magellan, who, in the 16th century, became the first people to travel around the world (Magellan himself died in battle en route); Joshua Slocum, a retired American tall ship captain who became, in the late 19th century, the first to sail around the world alone; Vito Dumas, the Argentinian who sailed alone around the world south of the three fearsome capes in the early 1940s, and Sir Francis Chichester who, in 166/7, tied the knot solo, at great speed in a custom-built yacht (the 54ft ketch Gipsy Moth IV) at the age of 65, with only one stop, in Australia. The last of this breed was Sir Robin Knox-Johnston, who did the same thing - but without stopping at all. I attended a celebratory lunch with Robin two weeks ago, in St Katherine Docks, and had the above photo snapped: two circumnavigators. I only plan a fun jaunt around London's backwaters for a week; but RKJ lived alone in a raging sea for 312 days, battling sharks, leaks, storms and loneliness. Eight others tried to achieve what he did. Five dropped out, two committed suicide, and one diverted his route. He was the only one to finish. Soon after RJK returned from his round-the-world trip, which generated massive publicity, man landed on the moon, ending the romance of exploration forever. After all, what could compare, in the popular imagination, to leaving the planet we live on? RKJ is the last of a long line of explorers among whom you might include Hilary, Amundsen, Scott, Chichester, Slocum and others of the most evocative names in exploration. For those who didn't see RKJ in the recent TV series 'Top Dogs' in which he and Ranulph Fiennes and John Simpson do dangerous things together, it's worth downloading from I-Player. Especially the second in the series of three, in which RKJ takes the other two around Cape Horn, landing on the famous island itself, a rare privilege for a sailor.

Lying about books

2009-05-02T08:25:00.000-07:00

I read recently that as many as 65 per cent of people lie about the books they have (not) read; presumably, these are the ones who admit to it, and the real figure is probably much higher. This came as no surprise. I've no doubt that blogs like mine are breeding grounds for this sort of dishonesty. My list is of books I've read in 2009 is real: I mean, who would lie about having read The Biggest Boat I could Afford?! The funny thing about these lists is that you can click on one of your favourites and see the blog profile of others who like it. This gives you an idea of the sort of literary company you find yourself in when you pick up a book. The great majority of my list are the favourites of no one else at all. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (a brilliant book until the grinding sophistry of the 'search for quality' kicks in) is loved by 50 other Google blog users. One of them lists her hobbies as 'art, photography, writing, reading, running, daydreaming, music, spirituality, sexuality, health & wellness, eastern philosophy, culture, relativity, sociology, anthropology, psychology, pop culture, history, feminism.' Another lists, as a hobby, 'creating'. Robert M Pirsig does warn that few people understand his book (it was initially considered too difficult to print and had to be leavened for publication) - and perhaps he was right.

Fresh Air Fiend (Paul Theroux) lists three other champions, one of whom lists her hobbies as 'Reading, Shopping, Sleeping and Picking Fights'. I like this. This is not the list of a liar. Paul Theroux, for those who have not discovered him, is a must-read travel writer. Put him above Bill Bryson on your to-read list (and then read Bill Bryson too). The God Delusion scores a massive 880. Now, we're definitely into strange territory here. The book starts well enough, then becomes stultifyingly boring and repetitive as it continues. I stuck with it for about two thirds, by which time I got the message. And now I know why most people don't believe in God: the Bible, like God Delusion, is too boring to read. And I like Richard Dawkins! I'm pretty sure that at least 65 per cent of the 880 have not read this book, and even fewer would genuinely rate it as a favourite. The God Delusion is. The next book on my list that isn't either a cheesy blockbuster or a sea story, is Walden, by HD Thoreau. This account of opting out of modern life to be a hermit in the woods is a real breath of the high thin air of intellectual enquiry, and deservedly seen as one of the greatest books ever written. Supposedly, it changed the direction of Ghandi, among others. It's written in a style that I can only call 'New England puritanical' which can stick in the throat, and it's a struggle at times, and I know has put many people off. Stick with it. It's worth the ride, and it's mercifully short. Amazingly, it's only loved by 10 other Blogspot users. Ben Elton's High Society gets 31, including one young woman who likes to talk with the moon, scream at the sea, do 'nude-bets' and play pool, as well as at least three Australian guys who like boozing and rugby. That makes me feel pretty rotten! I was clearly wrong to enjoy High Society so much. Sorry. Finally, Thames, Sacred River, by Peter Ackroyd, got not a single vote. I'm not surprised. It's pretty dry stuff and I only read it because I thought I had to. But if I was going to lie about things, I would lie about having read this. And I'd also lie about having read To the Lighthouse, by Virginia Woolf, as I'm pretty sure it's so dire, that actually, no one has read it. And I'd definitely lie about having read War and Peace, as I know I'd be in the company of other liars, and we wouldn't ask awkward questions of one another: we'd all be lying together!

Then... decide your route

2009-04-30T14:23:00.000-07:00

"I didn't know you could do that" is the response of most people I have told I am sailing around London. Well, with a bit of rowing, you can. People have been making circular London journeys for years in narrowboats, but as far as I know, no one has tried it in a small boat. 'As far as I know' is, of course, a way of saying 'I couldn't find anything on Google'. Small craft not known to those in narrowboats or barges. You are closer to the water, there is no diesel engine to drown your thoughts and the sounds and smells that surround you - and you can go where you please, irrespective of draught (the bit of your boar that sticks out underwater) and the odd bit of land you might have to pull your boat over. My trip will take me OVER the A406 on an aqueduct, under Maida Vale and Islington through canal tunnels, through the Thames Barrier, alongside the runway of London City Airport, and to where the gulls cry and big shipping manoeuvres in the black, estuarine part of the river under the QE2 bridge. Thanks to the kind efforts of members of the Thames Sailing Club, Britain's oldest river sailing club founded in the late 19th century, I had a base for the trip, in Surbiton, west of London, in Kingston-upon-Thames. From there, it's obviously east on the Thames, until Teddington Lock, where the leafy stretches of the upper, rural non-tidal Thames start to alter to the urban, brown-water tidal Thames, also known historically as 'the London river', where the Thames starts to run for the North Sea in earnest. Soon after, I will turn left onto the Grand Union Canal, to describe a rough, clockwise semi circle, joining the Thames 28 miles and four days later at Limehouse Basin in east London. This will be the hardest part of the journey, as 200 or so low bridges (and 37 locks!) mean that I will be rowing most of the way. I am doing the rowing leg on the way out, eastbound rather than the way back, based on Britain's prevailing winds which come from the south west. A note of terminology here: a wind from the south west is called a south-westerly wind, as winds 'come from'. Tides however, 'go to', meaning that an easterly tide is one that moves in an easterly direction. Anyway, back to the route: I'd much rather sail into the wind on the way back, with the flood pushing me on, than row into a headwind on an unhelpfully stagnant canal. From Limehouse, I will sail east along the Hackney Cut, a pretty much deserted leg of east London's back rivers, into the Bow Back Rivers proper, where I will meet the site of some regeneration in preparation for the 2012 Olympics. This is an impossibly bleak landscape for the most part, sailing past the blank concrete backs of light industry. From the historic Three Mills, I will sail south east, on the Lea River, back to the Thames, exiting through the semi-tidal meanders of Bow Creek onto the River Thames, after a rowing 'hiatus' miles. Perhaps the best moment of the trip will be re-stepping the mast, hoisting the sail, and starting to fly before the wind once again. From there, it's east through the Thames Barrier, and then east all the way to the QE2 Bridge. The sound of the M25 making hollow banging noises at it crosses overhead is a contrast to the seals that sometimes bask on the banks here, serenely indifferent to the heavy shipping manoeuvring on the river. This is the most easterly part of my voyage. From here I will return part of the way to Limehouse, before diverting to take in the Victoria, Albert and King George V Docks that surround the runway of London City Airport. Sailing just alongside the passenger jets taking off and thumping down, I will leave the docks at the west end, taking to the Thames again for a short while. From there, I will use the West India and Millwall Docks to cut off the Isle of Dogs and continue west. This means missing maritime Greenwich, but I have sailed past its architectural wonders many times before. It might be strange rowing through these docks. They are 'the' docklands, with the architectural atrocity of Canary Wharf Tower blowing steam off its tip and standing over its ranks of sycophantic rivals. After leaving these docks, it's time to set the sails, and catch a ride all the way on the flood tide to Surbiton.

Storm 15: first choose your craft

2009-04-22T15:21:00.000-07:00

This project needed a special boat. Most importantly, it had to look good. This might sound like a strange thing to have as the top priority, but there is no excuse for any boat designed for pleasure to be ugly. It ought to be a pleasure to anyone who sees it as well as the one inside it. Also, working, as I do, for a magazine like Classic Boat, a celebration of the beauty of boats, sailing a tub could be a firing offence! Secondly, the boat had to sail well (actually, most small boats do) and row well - most small boats don't. I was lucky enough to be lent my ideal boat: the impossibly pretty Storm 15, designed and built by Swallow Boats in Wales. Nick and Matt Newland, of Swallow Boats, have been designing and building pretty, but fast and modern, sailing dinghies and 'mini-yachts' for about ten years. They are both naval architects, and strive for perfection over profit in their work, like so many enthusiast boatbuilders. The Storm 15's lineage dates back to the Vikings, something that is apparent in her 'double-ended' design; IE sharp at both ends. This makes it easily propelled in light winds and by oars. It won't fly in a gale, but to consistently be able to move at a good pace and make the most of the slightest zephyr is a far more important consideration in a project of this sort. The boat also had to have a short mast in order to shoot (or go under) bridges. The Storm 15 is gunter-rigged, meaning that the gaff, or mast extension, can be lowered without lowering the whole mast. The whole mast, being free-standing is, however, easy enough to lower or raise for really low bridges. The boat had to be light too: I have to handle her on my own, and at two points along the journey, manhandle it over short land portages. Storm 15 only weighs 100kgs, which is a huge advantage over some dinghies in the size bracket, which can weigh up to twice that. Finally, I am hoping to spend a night or two aboard. The Storm has enough space between the side seats to lie down and snug down for the night, with a tent slung over the boom to provide shelter and privacy. Whether or not I can actually sleep in it is a different matter. I will find out when I pick up the boat on 22 May. For more on Swallow Boats click here.

Circle Line

2009-04-21T08:28:00.000-07:00

Sailing Around London

A journey through memory and the trials of modernity

"One generation abandons the enterprises of another like stranded vessels"

Henry David Thoreau

Ten days, four rivers, three canals, countless bridges and locks, an aqueduct and two tunnels. From 27 May to 4 June, I will try to sail (and row) around London. I will travel solo in a Storm 15 dinghy, sailing on the river and through London's docks, and rowing on the canals. I will sleep wherever I can: on the boat, camped by it, on floors or in youth hostels. Unlike many adventures of this nature, Circle Line is not supposed to be a triumph of cardiovascular grit or mental steadfastness, but a journey through memory and a contemplation on progress, time and generations. Along the way, I will be raising money for Sail 4 Cancer, a UK charity that gives financial aid to sufferers and their families. Please visit my page at http://www.sail4cancer.org/news_detail.php?newsid=447. The aim of this first post is to lay down all the details of the journey so that distances, aims, route etc are all in one place.

When, What, Where etc

What: a small-craft circumnavigation of London

When: 27 May-5 June, 2009

Crew: Steffan Meyric Hughes, and occasional passengers

Boat: Storm 15: 15ft sailing/rowing dinghy

Start/end point: Thames Sailing Club, Surbiton, nr Kingston-on-Thames

Route: East along the Thames until Brentford; north-west along the Grand Union Canal to Bull's Bridge; east along the Grand Union Canal (Paddington Branch) to Paddington; south east along the Grand Union Canal (Regent's Canal Branch) to Limehouse Basin; one day exploring Bow Creek and the east London back rivers; east along the Thames through the Thames Barrier and as far as the QE2 Bridge; west on the Thames, taking in the Victoria and Albert Docks (100 yard land portage) and the West India/Millwall Docks; west on the Thames back to Surbiton.