Monday, June 17, 2019

Things I love about living on board

I’ve been waking up early the last couple of weeks. Since I have no curtains on board, the light streams through my roof window and wakes me, but I don’t get up for a while. I love just lying in bed and listening to the sounds of life on the water.

At this time of year, there’s a lot of activity around my barge. The small gap between my neighbour and me is a perfect safe spot for the ducks to hide their babies from the predatory herons, so they tend to gather there in the mornings. I can hear the cheeping of the ducklings and the bossy commands of their mum. They scuffle and splosh around as they perform whatever morning routines they have and make a quite a noise for such tiny balls of fluff. It's a wonderfully cheerful sound to start the day with. Then there’s the systematic pecking against the hull as the adult ducks feed off the weed that grows on the water line. It should be annoying, but somehow it isn't; it's a reassuring sound that tells me nature carries on regardless of our presence.

The small gap between the boats makes an
ideal hiding place for the ducklings

Even though the harbour itself is very quiet in the mornings, the wildlife is not, but it doesn’t matter at all. I relish it. The other morning, I heard the desperate squeaking of what sounded like a bird in danger, so I got up and opened the hatch, only to see a baby coot swimming around my bows looking for its mum. Talk about yelling. This one had the voice of a town crier in the making. Mum reappeared soon, though, gathered up her offspring, and after administering an impatient nudge, off she went again with the chick in hot pursuit.

Mother coots are definitely the sharp-tongued, no-nonsense types, unlike the protective ducks. Mrs Coot will expect her babies to follow her and if they don’t, well, she’s not going to wait for them. This could be why we rarely see more than two or three coot chicks at a time. I fear they fall prey to the herons all too often.

The fish are also pretty busy these days. We have large shoals of carp in the harbour, another threat for the ducklings and possibly why the little coot was so alarmed. The carp swim around the boats looking for food and sadly, ducklings are on their menu, which is horrible, but that’s real life. I often look down and see quite massive fish circling the waters between my barge and the quay wall. This has the result of drawing the fishermen too, so it’s quite common for me to step off the boat and have to climb over fishing tackle to reach the path. I find the proximity of these fishing addicts a bit intrusive, but at least it means our harbour is alive.

And then there's the water itself. In a tidal harbour, there is a constant slapping of water against the barge and often a 'glubbing' sound of air bubbles being released when the water is low. It can be worrying at first, as I’ve mentioned before, but now I know it’s one of those morning sounds I enjoy, a part of my watery life, along with the gentle bumping of hull to hull and the creak of the gangplank on the quay as the barges shift and sway with the wind.


Evening approaching in our Zeeland the harbour

Last night, for a change, I slept on board the Henni H in our harbour in Zeeland. It’s not the first time I’ve done this, but it’s the first time I’ve been here alone, and now I’m enjoying completely different morning sounds. The boat bumps against the jetty constantly making the fenders squeak each time they squish against the poles. The factory close by huffs, puffs and wheezes like an old organ. Then above all the distant noises, I can hear the birds singing in the woods next to the harbour. I love it, all of it.

The factory huffs and puffs like an industrial organ

Faring is, of course, the greatest of joys, but simply living on board brings me so much pleasure. I count my blessings with every morning I can wake to these sounds and motions.

Evening lights appear


Have a great week allemaal

14 comments:

  1. I just woke up. Reading this and experiencing it through your eyes brought blissful feelings. Ahhhh.

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    1. I’m so glad it gave you a good start to your day, Patti xx

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  2. What a lovely description of boat life :)

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    1. Thank you! As you might have gathered, I’m pretty fond of it :)

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  3. How lovely to be so close to nature. You make it sound idyllic but I'm sure it's often not. Super blog post Val.

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    1. You’re right, Rebecca. The fact that the ducklings and coot chicks are so often breakfast for both the heron and the carp is sad and sometimes I’m surprised they survive at all, but it’s lovely to see them and I really enjoy the harbour sounds.

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  4. Hi Val - just ideal ... I too love waking up and just listening to nature outside ... i.e. camping - though I don't like it much! Posh camping in the Okavango is ok!! Sounds like you're getting a bit of down time - relaxing and taking time out ... good for you - cheers Hilary

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    1. Oh Hilary, I’d love a bit of posh camping in the Okavango too...haha! Yes, things are winding down now and it won’t be long before my work is over for this academic year. Thank you!

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  5. Beautiful, Val, as always. Thanks for sharing your morning on your barge with us landlubbers. Sad about the herons and the big carp - but I guess everything has to eat. (steph)

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    1. Thank you, Steph. I'm glad you enjoyed it xx

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    1. Why thank you, Bev...
      You’ve made my day xx

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  7. I was reading this and thinking "oh, that is so true." When I have slept on a houseboat in the past I have found it the nicest thing, in fact, I also like just lying around and reading, being gently rocked and watching the reflections of the ripples inside the cabin... listening to the wildlife. As you say, it is hard to beat. Interesting how the sounds were different in the different harbours, yet equally pleasing.

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    1. Yes! The ripples of light on the ceiling are lovely aren’t they? It was interesting for me too. Such a different range of sounds. There are no ducks in our Zeeland harbour, but I think that’s because there are so many more rural spots for them to inhabit.

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