Crew: James, Tommy, Derry… and Mark, trying his best to steer something (mostly the chaos).
The Jonge Jan — proving once again that even when we don’t quite know what we’re doing, we’re doing it together.
The morning started bright but brisk — one of those November days where your breath fogs like a tugboat and your fingers question your life choices. The lads got the fire roaring, tea brewing, and Wendy’s legendary devil’s chocolate cake was swiftly demolished before 9:30am. (There’s something sacred about hot tea, cake, and diesel fumes — it’s the official smell of progress.)
Today was full of firsts aboard Jonge Jan:
- First hot drink brewed onboard
- First proper sail since we took ownership
- First lock... which, naturally, we did twice — because why not perfect the chaos?
Derry and Tommy faced their first lock with wide eyes and sleeves rolled up, while James and I did our best impressions of “experienced boatmen.” Let’s just say if the Chuckle Brothers, Buster Keaton, and Laurel & Hardy ever co-owned a Dutch barge, it would’ve looked exactly like this morning. Still — we did it! Cool heads, strong teamwork, and minimal swearing.
Before casting off, we’d been busy:
We confirmed the diesel tank size (210 litres, half full and full of promise), cleared out another mountain of junk from the stern (photo evidence with James looking smug), and even unearthed a 2008 Dutch newspaper — a proper time capsule from JJ’s homeland. Alongside the two Marvel comics found earlier, they’ll soon form part of her onboard museum.
While Derry and Tommy were busy unblocking drainage gullies — a surprisingly clever bit of Dutch design that earned genuine admiration — we realised Jonge Jan wasn’t going anywhere until we moved the narrowboat moored alongside her. The neighbour had tied to us, which is a thing on the canals, which meant a bit of nautical shuffling was required.
Cue a slick bit of rope work and teamwork that got us free without incident. Of course, the ever-modest “Glory Thief” James immediately claimed full credit for the manoeuvre. Naturally, Derry and I know the truth — though we’ll let him bask in it for now.
Gallery
Then came the moment — the engine fired up, the ropes came off, and Jonge Jan glided free for the first time since we took the helm.
It was only my second go at steering her, but this time she responded like an old friend instead of a reluctant ox. The grins on the lads’ faces stretched wider than the canal itself — pure joy, mixed with disbelief that we hadn’t sunk.
We cruised under York Way Bridge and toward Islington Tunnel, before turning her neatly (and proudly) around at Battlebridge Basin — a whole 200 metres from our mooring. Then came our first lock at St Pancras, where Tommy and Derry were quick learners. The lock filled, the boat rose, and so did our confidence.
The return journey was... less textbook. Above the lock at St Pancras Basin, I attempted a graceful turnaround, which quickly devolved into an aquatic comedy sketch. There was shouting, there was rope-pulling, there were wet ropes — and at one point I swear the JJ spun just to laugh at me. But in the end, we did it: the crew stayed calm, the boat stayed afloat, and we glided back home to our mooring ike champions who’d definitely meant to do it that way.
Another day of laughter, learning, and living the Hideout ethos: second chances, steady hands, and shared purpose.