There is a certain animosity reserved for London boaters within the British boating community. The stereotype goes that London boaters don’t move in accordance to the CRT rules, they moor badly, they only want to be in central London which is why it is always so busy there, and perhaps worst of all, they are utterly clueless about their boats. There is even a cute nickname for this mythical breed, they are ‘floaters not boaters’. I believe this boils down to some more seasoned boaters becoming frustrated with the influx of young folk moving onto the water and perhaps not abiding by the unspoken code, or even CRT rules. Much the same as the certain demographic who vilify the youth of today with condemnations such as ‘young people today don’t know how easy they have it’, or ‘back in my day…’. It even reminds me of Kim Kardashian’s advice to women in business; ‘get your f***ing ass up and work, it seems like nobody wants to work these days’. Basically I think that people can be pretty unsympathetic to those they believe to be less experienced, less rule abiding, less well off than themselves.

I believe that the housing crisis has affected the demographic of people who move onto boats, and this has had a knock on affect on the nature of the boating community, especially in London. I believe there are also other factors such as advances in technology that have made boat life easier and more appealing, but I’d put money on money being the reason accounting for most of the increase. In 2000, when both housing and rental prices were more affordable, there were approximately 1,600 boats with no home mooring on the network. According to the latest CRT data in 2023, there are now approximately 6,650, which is a 316% increase. I would suggest that back in 2000, people who chose to live on boats did so because the lifestyle appealed to them, this being the primary reason. When the cost of life on land is manageable, the lure of a rent/mortgage free life is probably less appealing, therefore leaving those who are simply attracted to the nomadic lifestyle. I can’t be sure, because there wasn’t really any boaters survey back in 2000 with this kind of information on it. But if I am right, there has been a stark change, with a pretty large proportion of predominantly young people moving onto the water for economic reasons. In 2000 the average London renter would expect to pay less than £200, these days you’d be lucky to find something for 3 or 4 times that number. House prices have also skyrocketed which means that the amount of people renting their home has doubled and is expected to double yet again in the next 10 years, while Londoners often spend half of their income paying somebody else’s mortgage. I would therefore suggest that this is probably the primary reason for the increase in people choosing to buy boats, rather than pissing hard earned money up the wall paying rent.

My partner and I bought our boat in spring 2022, I was 25 and had been renting house shares in London for 4 years. Our 52 foot narrowboat cost us £40k, which we took a loan to cover. We now pay what we used to in rent as loan repayments, as I write this we only have 3 years left until we finish paying it off. We now have a home that is completely our own, which is something we wouldn’t have been able to do any other way. The lifestyle is something that definitely appealed to both of us as well (albeit a somewhat romanticised idea of the lifestyle), but I honestly can’t say what might have happened if renting was affordable or buying property at all feasible. I love the lifestyle so much that I like to think I would have done it anyway, but it wasn’t something I even considered until my partner and I wanted to move in together having had enough of shared houses, before realising how expensive studio flats are.

So I can imagine that young folk like ourselves might decide to buy a boat as a way of escaping the parasite that is the London rental market. They are sold the romanticised boating dream, perhaps don’t do their research properly and then realise that it is actually really hard work. You have to be practical, prepared to learn a lot and get your hands dirty. You need to be prepared to spend a big chunk of your free time doing boat stuff, which is something I don’t think people realise. It’s not a life hack, it’s not even as cheap as people expect because maintenance costs money. But can you blame them for not knowing? Or thinking they could do it before realising it’s actually too much? I believe these are some of the ‘floaters not boaters’ that get absolutely lambasted on Facebook for asking stupid questions, or laughed at for not knowing things they maybe should.

Don’t get me wrong, it is frustrating when people moor badly or don’t move for 6 months, and I do believe that we all have a responsibility to the boating community to not be a dick, and to be considerate of other waterways users. Especially in London and other cities, where mooring spots are harder to find, and the facilities are busier, one dick move can have a knock on affect on other boaters' moving day.

We have all experienced it, and it doesn’t feel great, but we move on. I think it’s so easy to point fingers at certain people or even a certain demographic as to why the boating community and life on the water isn’t what it should or could be. But I don’t understand how the grumbly farts on Facebook can’t take a step back and look at the wider social and economic climate, and see pretty clearly why exactly things are like this now. It’s not down to individuals who don’t do their research or can’t really hack the lifestyle, it’s the broader power structures that have brought about the housing crisis, the cost of living crisis and mass youth disenfranchisement and alienation. It feels utterly hopeless to know you will never own your own property and will therefore always be at the mercy of the parasite class with no rent control, you’ll work a 40-50 hour week well into your 70s, with a crumbling NHS and no safety net. So can you blame them for absolutely clinging to that what appears to be a way out? People are desperate, they want some ownership over their lives. Humans are a successful species because we are incredibly adaptable, this is just one way that people are trying to survive in a hostile environment.

Like most twenty-somethings, I spent the first portion of my adulthood searching for my place in the world, a nook where I would feel safe but challenged, where I would find balance. I found this increasingly difficult, for the first part because I wasn’t yet even sure who I was, and for the second part because I am a millennial in London. It is no great secret that London is becoming harder to live in, both socially and financially. I first moved to London in 2018 to do my degree, and was instantly sold the dream of endless opportunity, and felt like it was undoubtedly the place I needed to be. It turns out, as a freelance creative, London is the place I have to be to get any work in.

I grew up in a small seaside town in South Devon, where people know each other and you see the same faces out and about and there is a sense of belonging even when I just go back to visit. I believe that we need familiar faces around us because we see ourselves reflected back in other people, this is important to have a sense of who you are and how you fit in. I was always a bit of an oddball growing up, I wore stripy tights and pink patent Doc Martens, and I saw my difference reflected back to me in how people interacted with me. I didn’t really have a strong sense of self at that time, but this experience was important because it compelled me to follow my difference until I found a niche. So I did, I coasted around house shares and communal living situations, trying things on to see what fit. I think the whole time I have been in search of the small town community minded experience, but in one of the biggest cities in Europe.

I believe that London used to function as a mass of smaller communities, but in more recent years people have become atomised and alienated, particularly younger generations. I think the rise of smart phones and internet culture, working more hours for less money, and constant new builds and rising rent has left the city feeling oppressive and impersonal. This is my personal experience, and I know that a lot of people feel the same. It is sad to see how profit hungry industry has ravaged the country I grew up in, and this feeling of hopelessness and fatigue is hard to breach when climate change is more tangible and threatening, and the cost of living is ever increasing, while big conglomerates rake in more profit than ever. I think these feelings are the antithesis of belonging and community, and feed into alienation. These ideas set the backdrop against which I started thinking about buying a boat with my partner.

Ours seems to be a common story among young people moving onto boats in London, certainly the group of friends we have gained through this lifestyle all seem to have similar values and experiences. One common theme is definitely the rising cost of living and ever increasing rent, although this is a contentious topic among boaters, so perhaps for another article another time. Another is the idea of self sufficiency, this is at the core of my own values, and at a time where we are so reliant on being plugged into the grid, moving not only off grid, but constantly travelling, seems like an escape from what feels bleak and hopeless. Closeness to nature is also something that comes up time after time, among blocks of flats and high rise buildings, little pockets of greenery and nature can feel grounding.

My demographic is one that is practical, motivated and attempting to escape the system in one way or another, but perhaps most importantly, we are community minded and take initiative to form meaningful connections with others. As I mentioned previously, I spent a long time feeling very alienated. The opposite of this for me is a sense of connectedness with a community, which is something I really struggled to find in London, until we got the boat. Something changed pretty much immediately, our neighbours talked to us, we started to see the same faces up and down the canal, people are so willing to help each other out in times of need. We have people round for coffee, we go for walks, share tools and exchange food, clothes, plants. This willingness to give to others is something I have not come across before, it is refreshing and makes me feel valued and able to contribute. We have our own space, and we are independent in that way, but share a unity. I think this balance between independence, our own space and integration with the community has been key to finding stability.

Of course we haven’t got on with everyone we have met, we have come across our fair share of a****holes, and maybe some people thought we were the a****holes, and it is important to acknowledge that. This community is in no way perfect, we are all human, and where there are humans, there is chaos and mess, that is just life. For me community doesn’t just mean friends, it means building solidarity across difference. Friendships provide a sounding board for our beliefs and values, which is one of many reasons they are important, but without a wider community we can become trapped in an echo chamber of people who think just like us. I find it important to be connected to people beyond our friendships because this is how our beliefs and values are challenged or consolidated, and we search for common ground. As boaters we have common ground and experiences to build upon, but also are a massively diverse group of people from all sorts of backgrounds, which can be frustrating and mind opening in equal measures. Building solidarity across difference is the only way that we will get ourselves out of this mess we are in globally. Joining the NBTA has definitely confirmed this belief, it is challenging and rewarding to organise such a geographically and socially diverse group of people to campaign together towards a common goal, but it is the only way to make any real changes.

Humans are social animals, we are designed to live in villages or communities, and therefore the world we live in can feel overwhelming and authoritarian, and lacking in the human connection we are hardwired to need. Choosing to live this lifestyle has offered me ownership of my life, a connection to nature, but what I have found most nourishing has been the interconnectedness I feel for the first time. I have found this to be an antidote to the detachment I felt unable to shake for years.