Dædalus is Ours

Well, despite the best efforts of our bank to louse things up - they failed to act on our CHAPS payment instruction made at 1:30pm until 5:50pm on Friday - long after the broker ABNB we bought her from had shut up shop, Dædalus is ours. Fortunately the broker is open seven days a week so transferred boat ownership to us on Saturday, 30 November!

Beyond excited we arranged hand-over of her keys at Aylesbury Canal Society where she is currently moored.

We’re not planning to move on just yet but thought it better to spend sometime orientating ourselves. Our first afternoon aboad was certainly eventful. The previous owners, Simon & Pat, had made us some crib-sheets detailing procedures for turning on the electric, warming up the boat, starting the engine etc. and left us a thick wad of instuction manuals for everything from the Morsø multifuel stoves to the fridge, from the central heating to the washing machine, from the TV to the radio, from the inverter to the solar panels. There’s a lot of kit on a narrowboat, none of which seems to conform to the way things operate on dry land. When we walk out of our flat we just lock the door. We don’t have to go through a checklist of actions to ensure that the electrics don’t blow up while we’re away. Pilots of the Typhoon fighter jet have fewer checklists.

So, first on my list of actions was to turn on the battery isolation switches (oh yes, there are three of them*) inconveniently located at ground level and tucked away beneath the inverter. Attempting to turn the first switch the knob came off in my hand. On putting the knob back on its spindle it then resolutely refused to turn! Not on the second attempt, not on the thirty-fourth attempt. A quick text to Simon and Pat to see if there’s a knack I received the response, “That’s never happened to us in the ten years we owned the boat.” Kate had a go, I had another fifteen or twenty attempts. Nothing.

Appying the adage “Turn it Off and On again” wasn’t an option here, I’d failed to turn it on in the first place.

I walked away from it, swore a bit and came back twenty minutes later. The knob slipped straight back on, locked in place and turned with commensurate ease. WTAF?

We had power!

Action 2 was about getting the boat warm. How to fire up the central heating. Piece of cake. Hit button A on the remote control to turn on, hit A again to turn it off. We’re not quite sure what B C & D do yet, but I’ll have a play later and report back. But pushing A fires up the boiler and within 5 minutes warm air is flowing from the ducts. Admittedly acrid, diesel smokey, lung clogging warm air. That’s right, I’d neglected to take off the chimney cap! I can report that the smoke alarms work. When I turn on the central heating at the flat (in fact I don’t turn it on as I set up thermostats 5 years ago and it just gets on with it itself) I don’t have to pop outside first to unscrew a plate covering the flue. Note to self: check chimneys before lighting a stove, starting the engine.

Next, wrestling to tune the TV with no wifi signal. I’ve not managed that yet.

Next, light the Morsø log burner. I felt that there just wasn’t enough pungent evil smelling air aboard, so lit the fire. On the eight attempt I had a lovely glowing fire.

Here endth the first day. Let the be light and there was dark.

Let there be air, and there was smoke.

I’m sure we’ll get the hang of it!

*Three switches but 12 batteries… (eight leisure batteries, two starter batteries and a two more for the bow-thruster.)