That'll be the improvements

There are those who believe that the inland waterways are a haven of peace and calm in a mad world. It is true that in many places and on many days this can appear to be the case. But the real world intrudes all too often.

Straining to wind up paddles on a large lock, two blokes are watching me. Neither offers to help. Bit of a bugger that one, then? says one bloke. You could say that, yes, says I. Didn’t used to be like this though, I reflected. No, he said. That’ll be the improvements, he said.

These paddles used to be hard, but you could with effort wind them up and let the water into the locks. Now, either I’ve got older and more decrepit, or something else has changed to make them much more difficult to open.

The bloke seized his chance to explain. The paddles (out of sight below the water, that you wind up and down to let water through) used to be made of wood. They formed a seal, which was OK, but would allow a certain amount of leakage. These days, no doubt for environmental reasons, they are being replaced with plastic paddles. These form a tight seal, and allow much less water to leak through. But they are also absolute bastards to shift by an unfit bloke with a windlass.

There are no locks on the Gloucester Sharpness Canal. But there are swing bridges. These are operated by bridge-keepers, who used to come out and give you a cheery wave and open the bridges for you. They used to be given grace-and-favour accommodation, in the form of little cottages, that, although no bigger than a detached garage, had porticoes and doric pillars adorning the front. British Waterways has sold off most of these assets. Now they are mucking about with the bridges themselves. This time, we noticed that the bridge-keepers stayed in their little huts and waved through the window. And the traffic lights that told you what to do at each bridge have been switched off. You used to get a red light to say stop and wait; a flashing red to say that the bridge-keeper knew you were there and was preparing the bridge, or that you had to wait to let another boat through the other way; and a green light to say pass, friend, all is well. Now you occasionally get a red, or flashing red, but no green. I’m told that this is for the inevitable “elfin-safety” reason, which is actually protecting the organisation against possible legal action. If we go giving you a green light and you run into someone, we’ll get sued, so we won’t give you a light at all, so it’s your decision, and we’ll just sit in our box and watch what happens. Lots of tricky decisions (Who’s nearest? Who’s going fastest?) all devolve to the person at the tiller. And the bridge-keepers carry the burden of everyone’s rage.