|My brother and his friends outside the lock keeper's cottage (photo not mine)|
I first discovered London’s canal network when I moved to east London in June 2016. I grew up in the south of the city, where the canal networks have largely been filled in but I was still surprised to discover this rather large stone left unturned. That summer, my brother was also living east, renting the lock-keeper’s cottage on Regent’s Canal next to Broadway Market, and I spent several sunny afternoons sitting on the lock — East London’s beach — greeting passing narrowboats and doing what English people do best in the sun: smoking roll-ups and drinking cheap beer.
The canals once spread over London and the rest of the UK like watery veins, extending the naturally existing river networks and linking supply and demand in the years before the industrial revolution. Narrowboats were pulled by horses walking on the towpaths adjacent to the canals. Now there are over 10,000 people living on narrowboats on London’s canals and many land-locked Londoners enjoy the scenic towpaths all year round.
Canals sometimes have a nefarious reputation — Victorian relics used for dodgy dealings, dumping dead bodies and prostitution, if you travel along any of London’s canal towpath late at night it’s easy to see why. Despite the fact that many of them are situated in central London there are corners here that have never been touched by the bright lights of the city. However, I’ve found that this sense of being removed from the rest of the city can also lend itself to a sense of magic and uninterrupted nature.
One chilly and wet January day, I decided to take a walk down Regent’s Canal again. It’s immediately clear that towpaths in the winter are decidedly less jolly, the steely skies make the cold industrialism they represent even starker and more apparent. Starting at Granary Square, which used to be a water basin from which barges carrying grain would enter to load and unload, I headed west towards Little Venice via. Camden Lock along the towpath. On this day the water, which you’d probably touch with a barge pole but that’s about it, looked particularly scuzzy — ducks and geese swum between discarded takeaway boxes and floating coke cans and a film of dirt and oil was clinging to the surface.
Equally as interesting as the history of the canals, I think, are the amphibious folk of London — people who have foregone plumbing and central heating for a quieter, damper life in a narrowboat on London’s waterways. Despite the inevitable inconveniences of living on a boat, there is something appealing about this lifestyle. A relic from the 19th century, the canals have remained at sea level even while the rest of the city has built up around them, because of this entering the towpath can feel as if everything has slowed down, people walk slower, talk slower and greet each other hello. One warm evening last summer I was cycling home along this towpath and saw a man smoking a leisurely cigarette over an open fire on his stern, the flames the only light on an otherwise dark towpath. We could have been in the middle of the countryside, and this moment seemed almost absurdly peaceful considering that not too far away (and possibly under our very feet on the tube) the rest of London was competing for square inches.
Anyone thinking of avoiding extortionate London rents by pursuing a romantic life on the water might be disappointed, though. You wouldn’t know it to look at them, and no doubt there are many exceptions, but weekly rent on a narrowboat is in the region of £400pw. Relatively cheap for central London, but expensive considering you’d have to empty your own toilet.
On this typically grim and gloomy January afternoon most narrowboats I pass seem as if they could be empty, mournfully bobbing up and down, although the bags of litter on the roof of many of them suggests otherwise. It is 2pm on a Monday, but to take the logical conclusion that most of the residents are probably at their 9–5 seems a bit unsatisfactory. So much for bohemian living! Things look up as I approach the Camden visitors mooring spots, where a sign indicates any boat can moor for up to 7 days free of charge. Although many narrowboats will stayed moored in one location permanently, some embrace a roaming gypsy lifestyle and cruise between temporary mooring spots, like the one in Camden. Two young guys are fiddling around with something on the stern of the boat whilst reggae music plays out of some (battery powered) speakers, and on another boat a girl with bright green hair is preparing to leave.
Regent’s Canal flows through Regent’s Park and from the towpath there is access to the back of London Zoo via a water bus from Camden market. At the waterbus station, a sign says ‘do not moor when beacon is flashing! Animal escape procedure in operation’. A bit further along you can get a piece of the zoo for free as the path passes the enclosure for the Painted African Hunting Dogs. Five minutes later the green-haired woman passes me on her barge leaving a plume of toxic black smoke in her wake, although we are moving at the same pace for a minute or so. Canal barges are not known for their speed, pre-industrial revolution they were practical because boats could carry heavy loads — up to 40 tonnes of coal or iron — once the railways came along and made life faster forever (70mph faster to be precise) then canals quickly fell into disuse. As the green-haired woman passes I try to ask her where she is headed but either she can’t hear me over the sound of the engine, or she’s tired of curious pedestrians because she ignores me. My question is answered a bit further down anyway though as I spot her reverse parking her barge into a small space near Little Venice.
Winter is not kind to the canals, what I remember as cheerful and charming has turned to sludgy and deserted. However, whatever the season, exploring London’s canal networks is a peek into Victorian London and the chance to explore the city from a new perspective.
Reposted from my Medium profile.