A fair weather farer

It's been a quiet week on the barge and boat front. Although, it probably seems to some of you that I do nothing other than slave, smoosh and spuddle, there are weeks when I just look at all the work instead. I call it planning. Added to that, the energy to unplug the electricity cable, cast off the ropes and get the engine running is occasionally just too much, so sometimes I just reminisce about going 'faring' as I call it. Indulging in memories can be quite satisfying. I call it planning too. For writing.

In truth, I am a fair weather farer anyway. I've done a post before about the joys (or not) of an open steering position, and you'll remember that I am not all that keen on being cold and wet  (I love understatement, don't you?). Still, today is one of those days I would love to be out on the water. It is sunny, clear and beautiful with the promise of lovely skin soaking warmth. Perfect for a spuddle up the canal.

But, the engine has decided it doesn't want to cool properly. Big disappointment. It has an appointment to go into dry dock at the end of the month, which means no faring for us this holiday, sadly. I have also removed the name boards to repair them, and that keeps us rather firmly in the harbour too. So, I will just have to make do with reminiscing.

Because of the time of year with the darkening and noticeably chillier mornings, I am reminded of my first ever long trip on a barge. It was to Lille in early September 2001. It was also very important in cementing my love of the watery way of life, and there is one particular moment that will stay with me forever.

We were on Koos's barge, the Luxor, and it was early evening. We were travelling along the Leie river between a place called Deinze and Kortrijk in Belgium. The sun was going down, and it was that special time of approaching dusk when the whole world is bathed in golden light. I was standing in the bows and there wasn't a sound other than the slap of water against the hull and the soft rumble of the engine way back at the stern end. The peace just flowed over us, a gentle blanket of something I can only describe as pure joy. It really was a life defining moment for me.

Some people appreciate their experiences more after the event. I can do that too, especially humorous disasters like those the wonderful Jo Carroll describes in her recent blog post. Hilarious even! But this moment was one I experienced fully at the time.

I savour it still, especially now when I can only sit on board and contemplate.

Do any of you have a life defining moment like this? I'd love to hear about it too, even if it has nothing to do with boats, water, paint..well, you get the picture...