The Boat: #leedstoliverdamage – Trip Statistics

Here are  few stats from our trip.

Number of times people hit head on bathroom door:

David: 8
Dave: 22 (at least)
Others: 0

It was not a boat for tall people, and I measure only six feet. Still I managed to give myself multiple lacerations on the top of my head simply by going into or coming out of the bathroom (sometimes both in the same trip).

Pram Slam:

While driving through the moors (Middlesbrough to Whitby) early in the trip, Kris jokingly wondered if we’d see a woman with a pram walking along said moors. It seemed a reasonable enough thing to expect so David hit upon the idea of a game similar to Slug Bug. In Slug Bug you look for VW Bugs while on road trips and when seeing one yell, “Slug Bug!” This might be followed by slugging a fellow passenger in the shoulder (or the face depending upon how the trip is going). For us on this trip, it became Pram Slam. Any time we saw a woman or a man pushing a pram or even the most basic of baby strollers whoever saw it first would yell, “Pram Slam!” There was no punch on the shoulder in our version, but it was a kind of bragging right to tally up numbers and though there was no official tally sheet, the final numbers were something like this:

David: 15+
Kris: 15+
Allison: 15+ (including the only double Pram Slam)
Dave: 9

There was no clear cut winner thus as we lost track near the end, but there was one person whose totals lagged behind.

 

Photo Count to Dave Smiling: 4

We began posting pictures of the trip right from the get go at SeaTac and then on through Middlesbrough, Whitby, Silsden, and the boat. A friend of ours noticed my lack of smiling and he started keeping a tally in the comments on Facebook. We initially had no idea what it was until uncharacteristically I smiled, even though when I did smile I had my eyes closed. Four might not seem like a lot, but in the context of a wild and crazy champagne laden trip with friends it is. What was unknown to our friend and everyone else though was that I’m like Billy Ray Valentine. I bruise on the inside. I smile on the inside too. In fact, I take all my emotions and keep them inside, and I just push them further and further down. And down and down…

Bottles of Champagne: 24

Before the trip Michael arranged the purchase of two cases of Champagne to drink on the boat. It seemed like a lot to start the trip with given that we’d be stopping at pubs and restaurants along the way and that we’d have beer, cider, gin, and other things on the boat. Indeed, the boat was so cramped that we had to be creative about storing the Champagne so that every time a cupboard was opened or a pot, pan, or plate was moved there was a bottle of Champagne lurking there saying, “Open me. Drink me.” And well, we succeeded. We drank all the Champagne finishing the last bottle on our very last night. Twenty-four it seems was the exact right number. Michael must have known something.

Postcards sent from Silsden: 20

There were a few postcards sent from Silsden as we spent more time there than we initially planned so we got to know the village a bit. It became thus our English home away from home. #silsdenrocks

NOTE: I hear the postcards have begun to arrive at the George.

NOTE: If you order take away at the curry place in Silsden remember that 1 side order of naan is the size of a 12-inch pizza, maybe 16 inches. They’re big. I didn’t know that so I ordered 8. Unlike the champagne, we couldn’t finish the naan.

Unfinished Naan: 2 12-inch (maybe 16) pizzas worth.

Swing Bridges Failed: 1

This was of course the very first swing bridge, and we needed help from the mighty Ian and Nigel to get it open. Cheers lads. We’ll buy you a pint next time.

Blue Moon haters: 1

In Gargrave at the Old Swan Inn, we met an English couple, Dan and Sally, who was, like us, travelling down the canal and who’d moored their boat near ours a little in front of the canal locks just north of Gargrave. The locks were closed due to lack of rain this summer so that was the end of the line in that direction. Gargrave became a destination thus, and the Old Swan Inn was the closest pub, maybe a ten minute walk from the canal, so we went there straightway. Once there, David, as is his way, introduced himself to the couple and we began as a group talking with them about the wind, the swing bridges, the boats, the overall canal experience. We talked about traveling and where we were from. After lunch, the eight of us went to a second pub, the Masons Arms, where Dan was offered a beer causing him to go into a story about someone recently giving him a beer that he’d never had before and after tasting it he said, “No, thanks. What’s this crap?” He was told it was something called Blue Moon. Everyone laughed and then looked at me and exclaimed, “He LOVES Blue Moon!”

Dan was an OK guy, but clearly his taste in beers was a little questionable.

Blue Moon Pints: 3

I had no intention of drinking Blue Moon in England. Really, none at all. I was looking forward to English beers, and in fact, I expected Blue Moon wouldn’t even be available there, but I saw it in a grocery store in Whitby and at a bar in Skipton, and then on our first night back in Silsden (Day 4), David, Kris and I went to the Punch Bowl and there it was again on tap. It was following me across the Atlantic and through the English countryside so I relented. Kris and I drank Blue Moon thus. David had cider. And all three of us wondered what the people of Silsden might say to our friends back home (See Postcards from Silsden above).

Orders of Nachos: 2

Just like Blue Moon, none of us planned to have nachos in England, but surprisingly, we discovered that a number of restaurants had it as a starter on their menus, and thus when we found ourselves in those instances where we didn’t quite want a full meal, nachos was listed there on the menu with a little light shining down on it syaing, “Order me. Eat me.” So we did. Were they great nachos? No. But then nachos are rarely bad. They are in fact their own food category so we sholdn’t have been surprised to see them even in the English countryside.

NOTE: The only bad nachos I’ve ever had were at SeaTac airport and that’s because they were microwaved. It’s true. Allison and I could see through a little window in the kitchen door that a cook put a plate of nachos in the microwave. We could hardly believe our eyes. That’s a top ten sin of food preparation for sure. And then we saw the nachos come out of the microwave and make their way straight to our table. We were aghast. They were mushy and soggy and inedible. It was the only time we’ve ever abandoned a plate of nachos, and so comparatively, the nachos we had in England were satisfying in the moment and that was all that was required. I’d eat them again.

Visits by Thor: 1

When mooring up for the last night (Day 7) in Silsden, there were no bollards at our mooring location so we had to use the mooring stakes provided by the boat company. These were steel stakes over a foot in length that needed to be hammered into the ground. The boat could then be tied to them. On our last night then, Allison hammered in the stake for the stern while Linda held the rope. It was a neat and quick job, and the boat was tied at that end, and then Michael attempted to hammer the stake for the bow. He could not. He tried again. Again, he could not. Something was up. I gave him the rope so I could try. I positioned the stake where I wanted it, squeezed the hammer, pounded multiple times. The stake went in a few inches and then stopped even as I kept pounding. Hmm. I moved it a few inches closer to the edge of the canal and tried again. Same result. I moved it a few inches away from the edge of the canal and tried again. Same result. This was some tough ground. I must have pounded the hammer about 50 times to no end. My hand and right arm were tired. Just squeezing the hammer was requiring effort.  Allison then said, “Let me try.” I said, “OK,” and gave her the hammer and expected the same results. She placed the stake and pounded it once with the hammer. Twice. Three times, and then after a few more hits the stake was in. Easy peasy. She was strong. I guess I married Thor.

Self-serve Bars: 1

On the fifth evening, David, Kris, Allison, and I decided to spend a night at a hotel near the Bingley Five-Rise locks since we were moored there. The four of us just needed a little extra space and a nice hot shower after almost a week on the boat. We were all getting along fine and enjoying the experience, but the boat was confining, and even though there was a shower, it was tiny and cramped, and the boat could be a little chilly. (It’s a rough life, I know). We found the Five Rise Locks Hotel nearby and booked rooms. When we got to the hotel we were given room keys and shown the dining area and then the bar. The bar, we were told by the owner, was self-sevice. We had only to note our room and drinks on the supplied notebook behind the bar and they would be added to our bill in the morning. Nice. A bar run on the honor system. We made use of it. There were drinks and pictures of us “tending bar” and more drinks and everything was noted correctly in the notebook. We liked the hotel and we respected the process. We imagined such a thing in America would last one evening at most, probably less.

NOTE: As a bonus, Allison and I were only charged for two of the drinks we marked in the notebook. I recommend this hotel if you’re in the area.

Water Refills for the Boat: 2

The boat had a 200 gallon water tank for showers and toilets and cooking. Before leaving Silsden Boats on the first night we were told that we’d probably need to refill it everyday since there were six of us, and the tank held enough water for roughly six showers and normal bathroom and cooking activity. On our trip though, we only refilled the water tank twice, five times less than suggested. That probably says something about how much we showered and how lovely we all smelled.

Teddy Bear:

While drinking Champagne and other things on the boat on night 4 in Silsden (after we returned from the Punch Bowl), we hit upon the idea of replacing swear words with “Teddy Bear.” Many examples were put forth including the following:

Teddy Bear Hole
I have to take a Teddy Bear
Teddy Bear Sucker
That guy’s a miserable Teddy Bear

Kris chimed in, “Fucking Teddy Bear.”

We all had to laugh at that because if we were replacing bad words with Teddy Bear, what was the Teddy Bear in that statement replacing? And what was with the fucking? In the spirit of the moment it should have been “Teddy Bear Teddy Bear,” but that wouldn’t have cleared up the meaning. It didn’t matter though because we liked it so perhaps we created something new, the new insult to end all insults. Or the new complaint when something goes awry.

Example: After parking somewhere and then running some errands, you return to your car to find a parking ticket tucked under the wiper. You grab it off the windshield and look to the sky shaking your fist, “Teddy Bear Teddy BearI”

Or maybe it’s better the way Kris said it, “Fucking Teddy Bear!”

Yeah, that’s better.

Friends Lost: 0 (probably)

When we were planning this trip, we all joked that given the close quarters on the boat that we’d end up hating each other by the end, that we’d get back to Seattle and sit in separate corners of the George not talking to each other. It was certainly a possibility. Travel can be stressful and we had three couples on a narrow boat, and operating the boat brought its own stress and emergencies as well. Perhaps that’s why we had so much Champagne and beer and gin and cider and Blue Moon and so on. Still, by the end of the trip, we all seemed to get through it OK and with our friendships intact. There were hugs when we said our goodbyes, and then we all went our separate ways, David and Kris to Prague, Michael and Linda to Wales, Allison and I to Edinburgh. But you never really can tell what people are thinking. Maybe a week from now the six of us will sit in separate corners of the George sipping our drinks and muttering quietly to ourselves and to our friends who are making the rounds between the three couples trying to figure out what went wrong, “Fucking Teddy Bear.”