Month: March 2019

Canals of the UK. Our Coming Journey

Posted on by Pete Schloss

Omitting the British canals of the Roman era and those of the Middle Ages associated with the construction and support of castles and monasteries, the dawn of the “modern” UK canal system dates to the mid 1700’s. It coincided with the Industrial Revolution, but whether the Industrial Revolution gave birth to the canals or the canals were the progenitor of the IR is in the realm of what came first, chickens or eggs.

By the end of the 18th Century construction of a remarkable system of connected waterways was well underway. It was the 18th and 19th Century equivalent of the United States Interstate Highway system. At its zenith the canal network of the United Kingdom extended to over 2,000 miles of inland waterways providing the efficient transport of coal, raw materials, and manufactured goods throughout the realm. It was a technological tour-de-force in its day and remains a marvel in the 21st Century with parts of the system declared as UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

Steam rail service in the late 19th and early 20th Century became the chief rival of the canal system. Train operators undertook to purchase segments of the canals and then raised canal fees to a level that made them uncompetitive. The death knell for the canals was struck in the Great Winter Freeze of 1962-63 when the entire system closed due to ice. Rail service had won its century long battle for supremacy.

Visionaries and conservationists believed that the Canals might again find relevance… not as networks of commerce but purposed as a recreational windfall. In the 1960’s the Inland Waterways Association was founded to restore the canals. This effort was later passed to the management of British Waterways. Finally, an act of Parliament placed the ownership and management of the canal system into the hands of the newly formed Canal and River Trust, a not-for-profit that has been responsible for the restoration and maintenance of the system since 2012.

On April 12th Christine and I will take the tiller of a 61 foot long, 8 foot wide “Narrowboat”, the Salten-Fjord. She will be our personal magic carpet upon the waterways of England for three weeks. During the first portion of the journey we will be joined by friend Kris Ashton of Denver. The final days will be with our Canadian friends Tom Shillington and his wife Nanci Burns.

Narrowboats are… NARROW! Here is a diagram of the Salten Fjord’s interior:

I have borrowed liberally from internet images to present an overview of the canal experience that we hope to embrace.

The interiors of the vessels provide accommodations for sleeping, cooking, bathing, and relaxation. These boats are powered by small inboard diesel engines that are designed to propel the narrowboat at the canal speed limit of 4 mph. Interiors are comfortable if not spacious.

The canals wander across country, connecting villages and cities alike. England is not flat. In order to accommodate the undulating landscape engineers of the 18th and 19th Centuries had to devise systems of locks to climb hills and descend valleys, hundreds of locks. Most are human powered by the narrowboat operators (us!). In some locations there are “flights” of locks, as many as 21 in a 3 mile stretch! There will be no lack of exercise for any of us.

Where the hills were too daunting tunnels were dug, the longest of these being over 3 miles long, pitch dark, and taking over 3 hours to transit from end to end.

In the pre-diesel days of the 1800’s men would hire themselves out as “canal walkers” to propel the vessels through these tunnels using their feet against the tunnel walls and ceiling!

The Anderton Boat Lift, constructed in 1875, still lifts narrowboats 50 feet from one waterway to another. Its 21st Century equivalent, the Falkirk Wheel, looks like a huge Ferris Wheel and lifts boats nearly 80 feet to the connected canal.

Finally, there are the cast iron aqueducts that carry narrowboats in 200 year old cast iron troughs 175 feet above the valley floor below.

Travel upon the canals of the United Kingdom is essentially safe, but not entirely free of peril.

We are counting down the days to departure in earnest. We hope you will travel along with us through my “Thoughts”.

Peace Everyone. Pete

(Note: Most of the preceding post was first published by me in August, 2018.)

After 45 Years A Dream Nears Reality

Posted on by Pete Schloss

How I came to read the July 1974 issue of National Geographic is lost to me. Perhaps it was in a barbershop chair. Perhaps it was in a dentist’s waiting room. How is not so important as the context of the time. July 7th I had arrived in Kansas City a recent graduate of Southern Illinois University. I was scrambling to rent an apartment and making preparations to report for work on the 15th as a newly hired Missouri State Parole Officer. A few weeks later I would meet a young lady named Christine. 3 years later we would be married. Our relationship has since flourished for more than 45 years, as has the dream sparked by an article in that issue of National Geographic; “Exploring England’s Canals”.

Nat Geo Canal Issue

The story described a vast network of canals in England dating back hundreds of years. These canals had fallen into ruin but were slowly being restored and repurposed for recreational exploration. The self-powered barges, known as “Narrow Boats”, were similarly being restored. Holds and bilges that once carried coal and commerce were being outfitted with galleys, berths, and heads. For the uninitiated that translates into kitchens, beds, and toilets. The photographs of the verdant English countryside, meandering waterways, and the intrepid navigators piloting these craft became images burned into the retina of my imagination. I have held preciously to my love of Christine, and I have held tenaciously to the dream of one day becoming one of those canal boat pilots.

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In 3 weeks at a dock in Middlewich England I will be handed the keys to the Salten-Fjord, a 61-foot-long 8-foot-wide diesel-powered canal boat. It will be entrusted to us for 3 weeks. We will be joined for the first half of the charter by our good friend and Camino companion from 2013, Kris Ashton. The second half of the charter will be shared with our “doppelganger” friends from the 2018 Camino, Tom Shillington and his wife Nanci Burns. It is our hope that over the course of 3 weeks we will traverse 200 miles of canals, navigating scores of locks, water viaducts, tunnels and drawbridges. Countless pubs and backwater dives will beckon, and I pray we will be up to the challenge.

It is my intention over the next week to post information about this upcoming “adventure”, so please “stay tuned”!
Peace Everyone. Pete

(Pictured below on the far side of the canal lies the Salten-Fjord)

 

A Priceless Gift

Posted on by Pete Schloss

Today (April 1st) is my birthday, number 67 to be exact. There have been enough of them that memory of the celebrations tends to run together and become a blur upon the canvas of my life. There are a few exceptions… #10, 2 digits and a Scout uniform; #13, a “TEEN!!”; #16 my Driver’s License!; #18 the illusion of adulthood; #21 (of course)… and from then they tended to be more burdened by a different reality. #25, a quarter century; #30 a song says I can no longer be trusted and a movie (Logan’s Run) says I should be executed. At #40 I was solidly middle aged… #55 I get an invite to join AARP. These days I actively seek out senior citizen discounts.

There is one birthday, #5, that is branded into my memory for the most valuable birthday present that I may ever have received.

It was 1957 and we lived just south of Chicago in Calumet City Illinois. To the north and south of us were seemingly endless rows of identical streets upon which identical small “4 square” brick homes were shoved together like so many caramels in a candy box. These homes had been built at the end of World War 2. Small 2-bedroom affairs that were just within the means of young veterans returning from service. The mortgage benefits afforded to veterans under the GI bill was their ticket to becoming homeowners. Young marrieds snapped these places up in their eagerness to begin life and start the families which had been put on hold by the necessities of war. Homes barely big enough for two adults were quickly being populated by my generation… we were aptly named “baby boomers”.

On my street there were young children everywhere. A typical spring morning saw fathers leaving for work while masses of pre-school children struck out from their homes, spreading across the neighborhood like ants at a picnic. Aproned mothers stood at the front doors naively secure in the belief that the community was keeping a protective eye on children. Truth be known, it was not the neighborhood, just vigilant Guardian Angels that protected most of us. It was a grand time! It was also the time that I turned 5 and had my first real birthday party.

As birthday parties went it was pretty standard. Party hats, “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”, cake, candles, ice cream, and the melee of sugar charged children running senselessly wild. The main event, the opening of presents, brought momentary order and focus. Presents were decidedly low-tech, but we didn’t know any better nearly 70 years ago. A Duncan Imperial Yo-Yo was big stuff. Balsa wood gliders, paddle-balls, wind-up cars, Jax, marbles… so much great stuff to choke on, get cut by, or just get an eye put out. Again, Guardian Angels taxed to their limits.

The opening of presents at my party proceeded in due course until the shy boy who lived across the street produced his gift, a plain white envelope. Everything to that point (and after) had been colorfully gift wrapped, some also adorned with bows or ribbons. The envelope’s plainness was strange in comparison and in this it brought a heightened awareness from the gathering. I opened the envelope and handed my mother the card within to read. It was likely a cartoon puppy saying “Hey you’re 5!!!…” or something like that. One of the children called out, “Where’s his present”? Others joined in. I remember seeing the face of the child who brought the card. Sad, embarrassed, crestfallen… I also remember joining the chorus of the other children. My mother intervened and with practiced ease redirected the energy of the group back to random chaos.

Later, referring to the boy I asked my mom why he didn’t bring a present to my party? She told me that the card was his present, and then she added: “That card may be the only thing that his parents can afford. He gave it to you with the same offer of friendship as the other children, but you and the other’s made fun of him. How would that have made you feel Peter?” As her words sunk in a lump grew in my throat, the same one that reflexively returns as I think of that moment.

I was 5 when I received the priceless gift of empathy. That gift has served me well over the 62 years that followed. I do my best to never leave my home without it. The little boy and his mother could not have known the real value of his gift to me. I do not know what that gift ended up costing him over the course of his life. I know that it was painful at that time and I wish I could let him know that his was the most valuable birthday present I have ever received.

Peace Everyone. Pete

The End of Living, The End of Life.

Posted on by Pete Schloss

The end of living and the end of life are not the same. This last week I enjoyed an afternoon with my father-in-law, Bill Nichols at a St. Patrick’s Day “Happy Hour” and music event hosted at his assisted living community. Bill is closing in on his 101st birthday. As one might expect, his abilities are a shadow of those he held as a younger man. For him and his fellow residents, physical beauty and vitality fled them years ago. However, beauty may yet be found within the eyes that reflect the youthfulness of their spirits.

Bill was animated, sang, clapped, enjoyed a glass of wine, shared embraces with the musician and staff, and of course wore a ridiculous Irish themed party hat.

I found his joy to be infectious. Actually, this one afternoon was not really exceptional. Bill’s days are filled with activities such as “Chair exercises”, Bingo, “Balloon Volleyball”, and group sing-a-longs, not to mention the social exchanges that occur with his fellow residents at meals and throughout the day. Bill’s days are a joy that serves as an analgesic to the ills of his advanced years.

Being around Bill has left me to reflect upon the contrast of my visits with my father during the final years of his life. Dad died in 2009, 87 years old. He had suffered the intensifying effects of Multiple Sclerosis for over 30 years yet in his final years his abilities and challenges were not very different than those imposed upon Bill Nichols by virtue of his advanced years. Dad’s last years were in a nursing home community. I could usually find my father alone within his darkened room, shades drawn, television off, a faint antiseptic odor in the air. My father’s view of life in his final years may best be summed up by his own words. I would open visits with him by asking, “How are you Dad?”, and he would invariably respond from his bed, “Just waiting…”. Sadly, there was never any question what he was “just waiting” for.

As Christine and I entered our 60’s we have been continuously bombarded with ads, solicitations, and messages encouraging us to prepare for the end of life. Have we secured our final resting places? Living Trusts? Explore the benefits of Insurance Annuities! Beneficiary Designations in place? What about Charitable Giving? There is little about continuing to live and much about the end of life.

My father’s life ended in his 87th year, but I believe that 30 years earlier he retired from living at the same time that he retired from work. Dad had been a college coach, Director of Athletics, and a teacher. He was highly regarded in those roles; they were his passions. When he retired a cavernous vacuum formed in his life. Dad never sought other interests that might have carry the joy of living into the years beyond his working life.
Another contrast: My mother will be 94 this year. She is as busy today as she was 40 years ago. She has her Bridge Club, Woman’s Club, Church activities and myriad other social and community engagements. I see in her eyes the same joie de vivre that I see in Bill Nichols.

There is a lesson in these observations: We have more influence and control over delaying the end of living than we have on the end of life. When age or infirmity deny us the pursuit of one passion, find another to replace it… Always have a next thing and Pursue Good Stuff!!!
Peace everyone. Pete

PS. Dad, my calendar just reminded me that tomorrow is your birthday and you would have turned 97. Although you have been gone 10 years it seems that I am still learning from you.