Looking back at our disastrous first trip aboard our motorboat Kay, we were under-equipped and complete novices who were convinced we could bring her down the river from Wargrave to Shepperton in a couple of days.

We were loving it – we thought we’d bought the entire Thames – but within hours we were in trouble as first the engine started cutting out and then Ron fell into a lock!

Even though burly chaps appeared from nowhere to yank him out of the water, we had to leave the boat at Windsor for a week and our son had to come and help crew us home.

Picking up our first motorboat

On 15 July 2016, we were beyond thrilled to be on our way to complete the purchase of Kay – our very first boat. Kay is a 1968-registered Freeman 22 Mk2 cabin motorboat and was lying at Val Wyatt Marine in Berkshire, a couple of hours away by car.

We had already fallen in love with her, she was as neat as a pin, with a new hood and spotlessly refurbished interior. Fully equipped with kitchenware and crockery, four berths and a bar, we knew this motorboat would make the perfect holiday home for a sprightly couple in their 60s.

That weekend we planned to bring her some 40 miles down the Thames to Shepperton Marina, where we had moorings agreed.

Our marine surveyor had previously looked at Kay on the hardstanding, and today he completed his inspection while she was afloat. He said that she was sound, with just a few minor problems regarding the electrics and freshwater pump, and she was without curtains. She would need antifouling in the autumn. Otherwise, she was ready to go.

Delighted, we went for a trial spin with Martin from the brokerage, handed over the dosh, set up the insurance and practically leapt aboard.

Bold intentions

It raised a few eyebrows in the Val Wyatt sales office when we told them we were intending to set off for Shepperton with our new motorboat immediately, and that we were expecting to be home in a couple of days.

Following best advice, we visited the chandlery to buy brand new Bluewave lifejackets, some rope for the fenders and a map of the Thames.

Under-equipped and daft novices that we were, we thought we had brought everything else we would need on this motorboat trip: bedding, an extra jumper each, a bunch of bananas, a packet of chocolate biscuits, four bottles of water and some Prosecco!

We cast off at 1430 on a grey afternoon, bursting with the joys of boat-ownership.

There were four locks between us and Marlow, our chosen destination for the night, but we weren’t intimidated by that. We had coped with locks before in narrowboats, and Ron had taken an RYA Helmsman course, so we headed downstream with a certain degree of confidence. We were loving it!

The luxurious gardens of riverside Thames villas were now ours to enjoy, too. The entire river seemed ours to explore, and there would be no more getting up at 0600 to return a hire-boat on time. That’s what we thought.

Rosy-cheeked tow

Within the first quarter of an hour we were in trouble. The engine wouldn’t restart in the first lock we came to.

Rosy-cheeked, we had to be towed out by the keepers. We couldn’t get going, so we tied up just beyond. Ron hastily cleaned a filter that was meant to suck the cooling water in from the river. That seemed to do the trick.

Then we cruised on through Henley, where we found the Traditional Boat Festival was under way. Beautiful old wooden boats of every type, polished and gleaming, had gathered there, along with the Royal Barge Gloriana –all gold-paint and uniformed crew.

It was stunning, but for us a ghastly pattern began to emerge.

It soon became clear that Kay’s engine would start when it was cold and would refuse point blank when it was hot. We explained this to every lock-keeper we met. Some were happy for us to go through with the engine running.

At other times we had to wait to cool down before we went in or, worse still, back out once we were in.

By the time we reached Temple Lock, we found the keepers had been warned that we were coming.

“What you need,” one of them cheerfully informed us, “is an electronic ignition kit.”

It was slow progress till we made it past Bisham Abbey and into Marlow, where we moored for the night by Higginson Park.

Were we down-hearted? No! It was just a short walk to The George and Dragon for a cheering supper and it was quite late when we got back to our motorboat Kay.

Only one light in the cabin was working, but it was wonderfully cosy. What had begun as an overcast day now turned into balmy night. We slipped into profound slumber as soon as our heads hit the pillow.

A bright start

Due to the aforementioned lack of curtains, we woke at an ungodly hour in an eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation with several swans and some athletic members of the Marlow Ladies’ Rowing Club who, with rowlocks creaking, were exactly level with our bed!

Sitting in the open cockpit (now our living room), I began to have my doubts, especially about the nuisance we had caused. Still, we freshened up at the local Fitness Centre and breakfast in the sunshine was lovely, with coffee and croissants from the Costa in the park.

I had my picture taken standing next to the enormous bronze statue of Marlow’s most famous son, Sir Steve Redgrave, and things started looking up. Ron found a set of new curtains folded in a previously unnoticed drawer and began taping them into place.

Curious passers-by stopped to admire our motorboat and struck up friendly conversations. By mid-morning we felt ready to tackle Marlow Lock. We thought we had cracked yesterday’s problem but, to our acute embarrassment, we still had to back out of the next one.

It was in neat and pretty Boveney Lock by Eton Wick that I heard a yelp as Ron suddenly disappeared from view. We were at the back of the lock, the last to enter, with the massive gates about to be closed just yards behind us.

Ron had been trying to get Kay tied up quickly so as not to hold everybody up. In summer sandals he had slipped and fallen into the hideously dangerous space between the boat and the side of the lock. It was a Man Overboard situation!

Rescue heroes

I lurched forward, switched off the engine and snatched the lifebuoy-ring. Even before I could throw it, Ron’s lifejacket burst into action, inflating instantly as it hit the water and preventing him from going under.

Ron had one hand scrabbling for the lock edge, the other pushing the boat away to avoid being crushed.

Two burly lock-keepers seemed to appear from nowhere. A third heroic chap, who had been watching from a bench nearby, rushed down the steps to join them. They grabbed Ron by the wrists and between them hoisted him to safety.

Ron came out of it still wearing his glasses and had not a lock of hair wet. It was all over in seconds!

Because Kay was not yet secured to a bollard, I was now adrift!

I took up the first line to come to hand and frantically threw it at one of the keepers. “It would help if it was attached to something on the boat!” he yelled, chucking one end back to me.

I found the cleat, fixed the rope and was reeled in, feeling absolutely stupid.

Ron, dripping quietly but apparently unscathed, got back on board. We thanked everybody, apologised for the delay, assured them all that we were just fine, and pressed on.

It was now 1800. We got only as far as the outskirts of Windsor before tying up for the night between two trees next to the grounds of Eton College.

Now we could see that Ron’s sandal-strap, twisting under him as he fell, had left a deep gash in his right foot, which had come out in a nasty bruise. He could barely stand the pain of putting his weight to the ground, let alone walk into town for some fodder.

Of course, he wouldn’t hear of calling an ambulance! Instead, we alerted some friends to the fact that they might have to rescue us in the morning. I did my best with the First Aid kit, then hiked into Windsor, past a funfair on the Brocas field, in search of something to eat.

Dinner ended up being a burger and fries, served with wine. As we mulled over the day’s events, we began to grasp what might have happened just a few hours earlier. Falling into a lock is every boater’s nightmare. Well, at least we had got that one over with…

By morning Ron’s foot was still swollen and fresh bruises had appeared elsewhere. He realised he’d not be able to helm all the way to Shepperton: he just didn’t have the necessary agility.

“Well, don’t look at me!” I protested.

So with the boat and Ron both limping, we turned about and headed back upriver to find Windsor Marina, into which we now booked Kay for a week.

We polished off the last of the chocolate biscuits and bananas while we waited for a taxi and trailed miserably back to Wargrave, where we had started from.

Ron collected our car and very gingerly drove home.

On the way, we stopped at our local hospital to get the foot X-rayed and checked for infection, but there was no great problem, staff said. The sprain and the cut were already healing. No stitches needed. Keep taking the paracetamol!

 

 

Getting help with our motorboat

After a few days of resting his foot, Ron went back to fit the boat with the electronic ignition kit we had been recommended, but by the end of the week he still felt too sore to take our motorboat Kay through another seven locks to Shepperton.

What we needed was a new, young, fit and healthy crew-member, and it was one of our sons who stepped in to help.

Dan drove us to Windsor, the motorboat’s engine started on the button and suddenly there was mid-summer sunshine and jollity again! Under blue skies, we cruised untroubled through all of the remaining locks.

Over the next six hours, life afloat began to feel as we had always hoped it would.

We had our first glorious view of Windsor Castle from the river, treated ourselves to ice cream at Runnymede and watched a regatta at Staines. Suntanned and smiling, we got Kay safely back to her berth at last. We were tired: we were starving: we felt like we’d been at sea for a fortnight! But we were now ridiculously proud of both Kay and ourselves.

We had certainly learned a lot from our experiences, not least that river cruising isn’t as tame as it looks. Yet the most profound lesson was to come. It was the slow-dawning realisation that our lives had been subtly transformed.

Throughout all our difficulties, nobody on the river had scolded us, nobody had told us what silly fools we were and nobody had been anything other than kind, generous and helpful. They’d joked; they’d laughed; they’d commiserated and comforted. Without even noticing it happening, we had been initiated and welcomed into a sprawling and hitherto wholly unappreciated riverside community. We had joined!

From now on we, too, would be Boaters of the Thames!

10 lessons from our first motorboat trip

1. Wear a lifejacket, especially in locks or when stepping off your boat to tie up – that’s when it is most likely to move away from the bank or quay and leave you in mid-air. The lifejacket will keep your head above water even if you can’t.
2. Check that you’re wearing suitable footwear and clothing. Non-slip deck-shoes help to keep you safe.
3. Don’t rush things! Take your time to work out what your next move needs to be. Act carefully and deliberately. Other boaters will wait for you – if they were in a hurry, they wouldn’t be going by boat.
4. Make sure your mooring line is properly secured to the boat at one end before throwing the other end to somebody else, or risk looking very silly and getting yourself pulled into the water.
5. Pack a complete change of clothes, no matter how short your planned journey is. It might not always be hot and sunny enough to dry your kit if it gets soaked. In wet clothes on a cold day, you will get very cold, very quickly.
6. Always take some extra rations, including bottled water, in case you’re prevented by some unforeseen circumstance from getting fresh supplies. It may look like a Wendy House on water, but this is a boat, remember? Stuff happens…
7. A lifebuoy-ring is essential and should always be to hand.
8. Know where the First Aid kit is stowed, so you can find it when the lights go out.
9. Don’t forget the sunscreen, your sunglasses and a hat!

Expert comment on your first motorboat trip

Environment Agency waterways team leader Russell Robson says:

Always ensure that everyone has appropriate dress and footwear for the occasion. As Chris and Ron discovered, enclosed nonslip shoes are essential. Flip-flops and sandals might be good for the tan and heat but won’t prevent a slip.

We would recommend all crews wear lifejackets as, fortunately, Ron did. Should someone fall in, please stay calm. It’s difficult but it will help everyone. If you are the one in the water, take a moment (even up to a minute) to get your breath, orientate yourself and call for attention.

Hopefully your lifejacket will inflate, but if you’re not wearing one try to float on your back until you have recovered your composure. Once you’re floating call for help.

Should you see someone going into the water, make sure you keep them in sight. If they are in a lock cut your engine and make the persons operating the lock aware. Reassure the person in the water and calmly explain what is happening. All boats should carry a throw line – these are more useful than life rings as they can be deployed in moving water and can be easily recovered if their first use is unsuccessful.

Send us your boating experience story! If it’s published you’ll receive the original Claudia Myatt-signed watercolour which is printed with the article. You’ll find PBO’s contact details on page 5.

Chris Colverson is a retired English teacher. Her husband Ron is an IT expert who handles the technical side of the boat. Chris’s mobility has been progressively restricted following an operation, then chemotherapy and radiotherapy in 2017. In 2022 she cruised 230 miles of the Thames through 82 locks without stepping ashore (PBO, March 2024) – Ron handled the shore work.

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