Several times I have heard it said that lockdown proved most people can work from home. This was true for myself as a freelance writer and my husband as a company director. Previously, my mother had been living with us, but when she moved into a care home and my sister took over as her main family carer, it allowed us to consider a different way of living.

Narrowboating runs in my husband’s blood, but not mine. We had talked about living on a narrowboat ‘one day’ without giving it too much thought, but it had suddenly become possible. For me, the idea was both exciting but also nerve-wracking. It was going to be a huge learning experience.

Very early on, my mother-in-law gave me Susan Woolfitt’s book, Idle Women. These were the volunteers of WW2 who kept the supplies moving on the canals. Prior to their recruitment, there was a belief in some quarters that women would not be strong enough. An official from the Transport Ministry suggested women would be unable to open a lock gate. Instead, they would ‘just have to sit down and wait till somebody came along to help them.' ¹

Eventually, the Ministry of War Transport’s only requisite was that those who applied needed to be ‘of robust constitution'.¹ Looking at alternative words for ‘robust’ you will find healthy and vigorous, strong, tough and forceful. Also, but perhaps less appealing, are full-bodied and stout! It makes you wonder what a woman needs to be in order to live and work on the canals.

Since we bought our fourth-hand boat, we have met and negotiated with many engineers and craftspeople. I have come to realise that there aren’t many women involved in the canal-side nuts, bolts, grease, saws, hammers and varnish of narrowboat work and wondered why this is. In June this year, CRT had an online piece celebrating women in leading engineering roles, which was encouraging, but there were no examples of women at a more local level.²

I did an O-level in engineering many years ago, hoping to make it my career. My experience of that single year put me off due to the completely inappropriate behaviour directed at me and that was just the tutor! This experience has always made me wary of openly taking on a role, or activity that is seen as traditionally male-led. If I bury my head in the engine bay of the boat, I am just waiting for a passer-by to make a comment. This is only my perception and I know it’s not everyone’s choice, but I wonder if this fear and wariness of other peoples’ responses is what keeps women from being a visible part of the local canal workforce or being the ones maintaining the boats.

Maybe for some, it’s about self-belief. ‘Can I, as a woman, carry out such and such a task?’ An inspiring piece in the Guardian online from last year, captured how skilled women are battling to find gender parity in the boat-building industry.³

They described being ‘outsiders’ and ‘made to prove themselves’, but also believed that anything is possible. I hope that as we travel, we will meet more women who are happy with having oily hands and paint-covered trousers. I know that I am loving the learning and I am growing in confidence and I am finally using the skills of that long-ago O-level.

1. Staveley-Wadham R (2021) Far From ‘Idle:’ The Women Canal Workers of the Second World War. The British Newspaper Archive. Available here
2. Canal & River Trust (2023) Celebrating our women in engineering. CRT. Available here
3. Larner C (2022) ‘We are outsiders’: the female boatbuilders of Instagram. The guardian.org. Available here 

The Waterways Chaplaincy is a community of trained volunteers who walk the towpaths and river banks of the country, offering a friendly chat and any assistance needed by a boater or towpath user who asks for help.

Chris Upton was born in Northumberland but was brought up on Mersea Island, Essex. He says that the island, with its tides, mud and warm Essex weather was an idyllic place in which to grow up and he remembers seemingly endless summers of picnics on the islands of the Blackwater and Colne estuaries. His mother taught him to swim in the
sea, which he enjoyed all year round, and to sail. At first it was dinghies, then yachts, up and down the East coast and beyond. When he was not in or on the sea, he took long walks along the sea wall, appreciating the ever-changing distances.

He was not brought up as an active church goer and says being dragged there once a year on Christmas morning was quite enough, but he came to faith at his secondary school, a boarding school with a Christian ethos which meant attending chapel four times a week. Initially, this all left him unresponsive but, in order to escape some French homework, he attended a mission event, led by a team from Christians in Sport. Three nights later he took the plunge and decided to give his life to Christ.

From then on he became very involved in the school’s Christian Union and started leading services in the chapel. He says there was not a microphone in sight so he had to project his voice to reach over 500 pupils, which ability has been of great value.

Whilst at Newcastle University as an undergrad, indulging his love of boats “and all things watery” by studying Naval Architecture, he also led the Christian Union. He met his wife at a freshers’ fayre Christian Union event. She was part of the drama group looking to attract new members and he was unable to resist! They married the
day after his graduation and together went to Jamaica for a year, working as teachers in a small school in the mountains.

Returning to Essex for five years, they set up home and raised a family. During this time, Chris worked in a variety of jobs that included fisherman and boat builder, but he ended up combining church youth work with painting and decorating.

In 2000 he felt drawn into the ministry and they moved to landlocked Haworth in West Yorkshire, where he served as student minister at West Lane Baptist Church. ‘Student minister’ means that he was on day release whilst studying theology at Manchester university. He became the sole person in charge of the church, like a curate but with no senior cleric in place to guide him. He says, “It was daunting but I learnt fast and the congregation were very forgiving!”

Chris is still in Haworth 23 years later but no longer as church minister. He is still a ‘reverend’ and an accredited Baptist minister but has moved from pulpit to pew, “which is taking a little time to get used to”. However, it has opened up new areas of service and in January this year he started as church funding officer for the national charity Christians Against Poverty. This is only a part-time role and dovetails well with his new work for the Waterways Chaplaincy. He is also helping a number of clergy as an accredited pastoral supervisor.
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Chris also enjoys running, cycling, fixing things and helping to lead the local community cinema. He finds that the beauty of the natural world with its space and silence clears his mind and speaks to his soul, which he says is very needed on occasions!

Chris is excited about the future and where the Lord will lead the Waterways Chaplaincy under his leadership. We wish him fair weather and happy sailing!

The boat gently rocks, water lapping on the hull. It's late and dark. Somewhere nearby an owl gently hoots. Then, in the blackened stillness, the boat starts to move. A passing boat? An uninvited boarder? Or perhaps one of the hundreds of ghosts and spectres on our waterways.

Richard Hill investigates...

Perhaps one of the most famous waterway ghosts is that of Christina Collins. Christina was murdered on 17th June 1839, aged 37 years. Her body was found in the Trent & Mersey Canal at Brindley Bank near Rugeley. Three boatmen, James Owen, George Thomas and William Ellis, were convicted of her murder. Two were hanged, the third transported. At the point where Christina's body was taken from the canal, there was a flight of sandstone steps (alongside the more recent concrete steps). Christina's blood ran onto and down the steps, and even today it is believed that on occasions, traces of her blood can still be seen. These steps became known as the 'Bloody Steps'. It is believed that a ghost makes presence here. Christina's ghost perhaps, or perhaps that of one of her murderers.

Another well-known ghost is that of Kit Crewbucket, a lady boggart of canal tunnels. She has often been reported as haunting the Harecastle Tunnel and sometimes is believed to be the spectre that appears in Crick Tunnel.

At Astley in Manchester, a grey lady appears searching for something near the canal. She may be the ghost of eighteen-year-old Ann Mort who died of a broken heart after her parents banished her suitor because he was a Catholic. In Cheshire, a hideous figure wearing a black shawl emits a terrifying cackling laugh at Buttermilk Bridge. This is the ghost of a woman who sold buttermilk to the navvies constructing the canal here. In Chester, where the canal (which was dug into part of the moat) passes near to Northgate, the last Roman sentry can still be seen guarding the entrance to the city.

The Shropshire Union has plenty of eerie hauntings. At Bridge 39, the famous double arched bridge, a black creature is said to appear as a phantom. This is the ghost of a boatman who was drowned here in the 19th century.

Boatmen are reported to have always feared Betton Cutting near bridge 66 of the Shroppie. Perhaps their fear is justified by various reportings over the years of a 'Shrieking Spectre'. A more recent phantom is that of an American pilot who appears in the Shroppie between Wheaton Aston and Little Onn at the spot where he crashed his plane during the Second World War. Another wartime pilot, but this time headless, appears on the south bank of the Coventry canal, between bridges 90 and 91.

Staying in Shropshire, but changing waterways, on the River Severn at Ironbridge, a phantom Trow can be seen drifting slowly. The boat is laden with corpses, piled high. At the tiller is a faceless hooded helmsman, believed to be transporting the bodies of plague victims.

Moving westward to the Llangollen canal and on moonlit nights, a figure can often be seen 'gliding' along the towpath on the Pontcysyllte aqueduct. The form often disappears suddenly, but has never been seen leaping off the aqueduct. At Clifton Gorge, where many have been known to end their lives by jumping off the Clifton Suspension Bridge, none have been reported as ghost stories. Yet the gorge has two known apparitions: one, a pilot who died in 1957 while attempting to fly under the bridge, the other of Brunel who designed the bridge. Brunel is said to haunt Leigh Woods nearby.

Boatman have always dreaded the River Wye near Hereford, particularly in the evening. What they feared was the experience of seeing the macabre 'Spectre's Voyage', for to do so meant certain death. Their fatal vision was that of a young shrouded woman, gliding past, against wind and flow.

The Thames, as one might expect, yields many apparitions. At Cheyne walk, upstream of Battersea Bridge is the ghost of a bear, believed to be one of the poor creatures forced into bear-baiting which took place here in the 16th century. Further downstream, below Westminster Bridge, echo the screams of pain of a figure jumping into the Thames from Cleopatra's Needle. Though never a splash is heard, the leap is often followed by wicked howls of laughter. At Limehouse, a ghost is seen at summer sunsets. This is the vicar of Ratcliff Cross who ran a refuge for sailors, and who murdered those with money. He dumped their bodies into the Thames at Ratcliff Cross Stairs. Much further downstream, in September each year, the screams of many can be heard at Thamesmead. These are the 640 souls who perished here when the pleasure steamer Princess Alice went down in 1878.

To Kent, near the confluence of the Thames and Medway, the Chatham Dockyard, Nelson is said to haunt the yard as is a ghost in the Flag loft. This is probably the youngest ghost, appearing since a supervisor who worked here died in 1990. The supervisor had an unnatural habit of digging his subordinates in the ribs if they did not work hard.

And finally, to East Anglia, where there are many reported spiritual sightings and experiences. In Norwich, the cellars of the pub opposite Bishop's Bridge are said to have been used as dungeons in the 16th century. Hundreds were believed to have been imprisoned here before being burnt alive in nearby Lollards Pit. The ghost of at least one of these wretched souls haunts here. There are ghosts all over the Broads; a drummer boy drums on frosty nights at Hickling Broad. At Oulton Broad the ghost of writer George Borrow, dressed in long cloak and distinctive wide brimmed hat, can often be witnessed. At Ludham, opposite the confluence of the rivers Bure and Thurne, resides the ghost of a monk, who betrayed St Benet's Abbey to the Normans. At Nun's Bridge at Huntingdon in Cambridgeshire, on a tributary of the Ouse can be seen the phantom of a nun and a monk. Both were killed, and their ghosts have been witnessed here. In nearby Holywell, a white lady appears in ‘Ye Olde Ferryboat Inn’ on the 17th March each year. She points at her own gravestone in the pub, before leaving and vanishing down the river.

Undoubtedly readers will know of more and many have written to the author about them. It is a chilling thought that so many exist.

I would guess that pretty much everyone is familiar with the battle of Waterloo in 1815, if only as a name synonymous with something this country practically made a sport of in the past - fighting the French.

This battle was the culmination of more than 22 years of on-off fighting, and although all of it had taken place overseas, the ramifications on the home front had been (and would remain) significant; more specifically for our interests, it directly affected the canals and some of it played out here on the wharf at Preston Brook.

The story starts some 30 years before the great bloodbath of Waterloo, in 1780 with the birth of a baby boy named John Pennington.

The Pennington family were fairly typical and reasonably well off; Thomas was farming while his wife, Jane, produced a child every couple of years. The building of the canal and the wharf had improved the local economy and they seem to have had the foresight to realise that the canal was going to be a steady employer for a respectable man, and so made sure their sons had a decent education.

This was a turbulent time for the country, with Britain at war with both America and France, and the country was starting to feel the pinch of funding constant warfare overseas and with the rapidly changing landscape as the industrial revolution started to pick up. We don’t yet know for certain what happened, but in around 1786 Thomas lost his land. Although the local records now record him simply as a labourer, we can be almost certain that it is him that is the ‘Peninton’ working on the wharf as an early porter.

John was apprenticed (possibly to his uncle in nearby Bartington) and learned the trade of smithing, while his brother William went on to be a farm hand, and Thomas went to be a book keeper.

What happens next we may never know the real answer behind. We can conjecture that he was friends with Joseph Bennett, another Preston Brook boy whose father had worked with John’s both on the land and at the wharf (indeed John’s sister Mary had been baptised on the same day as Joseph’s brother William), and Joseph, who had joined up in a few years earlier, had told him how great it was in the army. Or perhaps John got caught out with the King’s shilling at the bottom of a beer mug. Whatever the trigger, on the 27^th March 1809, John joined the British army at Manchester and joined the ranks of men in the 16^th Light Dragoons, a cavalry regiment.

John was a grown man when he joined the army, but Thomas Cookson was a lad of about 18 when he joined the same regiment. As can be seen in Jane Austen’s books; soldiers at this time, with their their smart uniforms and air of adventure about them, had a great deal of sex appeal. Work was becoming a little thin on the ground for unskilled labourers, and food was in short supply too. Thomas, a poor labourer’s son from Frodsham, probably didn’t need much persuading to join the army.

We don’t know for certain how much they knew of each other, but we know that at the Battle of Waterloo itself Private John Pennington was in the Centre Squadron, F Troop under the command of Captain King, and Private Thomas Cookson was in the Left Squadron, A Troop, under Captain Tomkinson.

The gory details of the battle of Waterloo are easily available online for those who wish to be put off their dinner, so I won’t go into them here. For our story here, what is important is that our players came out the other side of it alive, and with all their appendages mostly intact.

Joseph Bennett was forcibly discharged in February 1819 when his regiment disbanded and no one else would take him as he was ‘lame’ on his left foot after it had been crushed. His next move appears to have been to come back to the area and take up as a boatman. We have a description of him: 5’5, with light brown hair, grey eyes, a round face, a ‘sallow’ complexion and a noticeable limp.

John Pennington stayed with the regiment for another 17 years after the battle, until he was forcibly discharged due to a rather unpleasant inguinal hernia. His movements are difficult to track but it seems he comes back and spends some time with his brother before vanishing off the radar.

Thomas Cookson was the first one to leave the army, and he too comes back to Cheshire a changed man. How he meets her we don’t yet know, but he meets Mary Millington, a canal labourer’s daughter in Moore. Mary is a woman with something of a past herself, with a teenaged son born out of wedlock, but they marry and move to Frodsham just in time for the birth of the first of their 2 sons.

Frodsham didn’t suit the family all that well and, perhaps thanks to a few words in the right place from his former comrade, Thomas gets a job at the wharf as a porter.

The wharf at Preston Brook was a busy, hard working place but, probably due to the large proportion of the workforce being firm Methodists, disabilities were worked around.

Thomas’s hearing grew progressively worse as the years went by until he was almost completely deaf, but he was a competent lip reader so the wharf just kept him where no one could sneak up on him. Even as a frail man of nearly 80 they found him light work to do, coiling ropes and sweeping floors. Interestingly, in 1871 he has Thomas Bennett and his family lodging in his house. It’s not for certain yet but it’s quite plausible that this is the nephew of Joseph Bennett.

With this small selection of veterans sat in such a busy corner of the waterways, it’s no stretch of the imagination to suggest that it was here our final character in the story emerges.

John Hopwood was baptised at about a week old in Wrenbury, appropriately enough on April 1^st, and, like many boaters, he’s rather illusive as far as paperwork is concerned. Before 1857, the only probably glimpse we have of him is when he gets accused of stealing someone’s trousers in 1839.

We know that he was an intermittent boater working between London and Manchester on the fly boats, with regular stops off at Preston Brook. In 1857 he was a widower with a 5 year old daughter. Somehow, he catches the eye of a young lady nearly 20 years his junior and that’s when it seems that the stories start.

It probably started innocently enough by John telling his new sweetheart he had been a soldier, rather than a trouser thief, but in 1861 Hopwood was working for the Shropshire Union co on “General Havelock” and was insisting to everyone he was a decade older then he actually was so he could back up his claim that he wasn’t just a soldier, but he was also a Waterloo veteran.

A decade later and he’s now on “Pacific”, and moored up at Grindley Brook. His daughter from his first marriage, Elizabeth, had married James Wildey the previous year (the Wildey family would later go on to be written about by ‘Questor’ for the Wolverhampton Express and Star) and it was around then that Hopwood started insisting that he had beaten Deaf Burke, the bare knuckle boxer, and that was how he’d got his broken nose.

In 1881 he’s master of “Dudley” and he’s now telling everyone he was born in Bengal and he’d also spent a few years travelling around with the circus before he came to the boats.

Something happens in the next few years that makes the Shropshire Union Co ask him to give their boat back, and by 1891 his youngest son is working in the Ifton colliery at St Martins to support him and his parents. This son, also called John, must have been having a hard time putting up with his father’s tall tales, not least of all with the none-existent army pension, and on one occasion went out, got blind drunk, refused to leave the pub and ended up being arrested and fined 10 shillings.

Unfortunately for Hopwood, his son died that year and left him with only his wife to support them by doing washing. She then died in 1895, and Hopwood took himself off to the workhouse and carried on embellishing his life story.

Hopwood died in 1900 having convinced everyone, including himself, that he was 101. There were doubters though, with one man noting that it was “people like (Hopwood) that convinced the world of the bargee’s habitual condition of lying”!

Pocklington Canal – Multimedia: Exposure photography, collage and acrylic by Dawn S Art

A broad canal in the North Of England which connects Pocklington, a market town in East Yorkshire, to the River Derwent. The canal is currently being restored and so far, 7 miles, from the river to Bielby Arm. The canal is designated as a Site of Special Scientific Interest with its site, attracting biodiversity with its rare aquatic plants and a wide variety of dragonflies and damsels.

Canal Head, near Pocklington in East Yorkshire

Last year, my Dad and I walked part of the canal, most of the stretch yet to be restored, from Pocklington Canal Head, outskirts of the town, to the Melbourne Arm. It is good to see some of the locks restored and see the remaining ones that are planned. It was a pleasant walk being surrounded by the Yorkshire Wolds countryside and seeing swans on the canal. We walked approximately 6 miles as we walked back from Melbourne Arm to the Canal Head.

Pocklington Canal

Worth noting is the Bielby Arm, which is a nature reserve and worth checking out. We do plan to walk from Melbourne Arm to the River Derwent in due course. It isn’t a busy canal with regards to boaters and walkers so if you’re for quiet spaces and beautiful countryside, this is the canal.

End of the Navigable part of the canal

We also enjoyed a drink in Melbourne at its village pub, The Melbourne Arms. Though more restaurant orientated, the pub is a pleasant place to go and just have a drink. A pleasant afternoon exploring this not as well explored canal.