Home again, home again, jiggity jig

Dear Motley Crew,

It was always going to be a difficult conversation, and of course, it ended in accusations and reproaches. “But you promised”, She said, “you promised we’d go to Bath. And London.” Well, we’d not actually promised, it was more of a loose plan, but we had to concede that there was a certain implicit expectation in our planning.

“And perhaps you will get there,” we said quietly, “just not with us.” This was proving more difficult than we’d imagined – for both of us – however decisions had been made, a brokerage had been arranged, and our tickets were booked. There was no going back - and so the packing began.

Although we had accumulated possessions along the way, there was not a lot that we would be taking back with us. Precious prints that had hung on our walls and brightened our days were the exception, and they were carefully taped and wrapped to withstand what was certain to be a rough trip.

Small mementos and gifts for loyal crew were squirreled into cases,

but, in the end, we parted with most of it. Clothes that had come from the charity shops were stuffed into bin bags and taken back to the charity shops. Tools and equipment would stay with the boat, and other treasures were to be handed on to new friends.

When the packing and the cleaning were finalised, we took last walks to places and locations that held special memories for us.

Lanes that we had first walked in winter we were now leaving in autumn;

our first ever lock - when we hadn't really had a clue how to operate a guillotine gate;

and a tiny touchstone that had always served to ground us and to remind us of just how brief and transient it all is.

As the countdown to our departure continued, we became increasingly nervous. Three days before leaving the marina, we received the email that we had been dreading. “Singapore Airlines regrets to advise that your flight from Singapore to Brisbane has been cancelled” it declared.

“You have options” the helpful man told us when we contacted the airline. “You can delay leaving the UK; you can spend a week or two in Singapore on a waitlist to Brisbane; or you can fly into Sydney.”

The decision was made in a heartbeat – quarantine-free Sydney it would be – and with that decision, our nervousness subsided, and the spectre of a fortnight’s incarceration in a “medi-hotel” evaporated as quickly as had our flight to Brisbane.

Safe in the knowledge that we would now make it back to Australia, it was a much more settled crew who cast off from our berth in the marina, and began the final journey with Matanuska.

Don’t look back, we’re always told, but, as we negotiated our way out onto the canal, we took one long look back at all that had been.

And then we looked forwards, for that was the way that we were going.

The Captain at the helm for the last time

We had decided to spend our final night aboard on the canal and the next morning, we went through our routine tasks in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

In the end, it happened all too quickly. Suitcases were taken ashore, slings were slipped into place, and She was out of the water and onto the blocks in no time.

With what seemed to us to be indecent haste, the surveyor appeared and began his inspection and assessment of Matanuska's hull.

And then suddenly the taxi was there. Our lives were bundled into its boot and we were whisked away, Manchester-bound, just like that. We felt an over-whelming sadness for what we were leaving behind, and this time neither of us could bear to look back.

It seemed appropriate that our Manchester digs were over a dead-end arm of the canal and it helped in maintaining an association with our past for just that little while longer. Now we walked the towpath as “land-lubbers”, feeling strangely disconnected and adrift without our boat. How extraordinary and surreal to think that just 12 months ago we’d taken Matanuska along this very same canal and through into the heart of Manchester city.

Perhaps fortuitously, there was little time for reflection in the days ahead, as we were now working to a schedule. We had flu jabs in case our flights were cancelled and our stay in the UK was prolonged, and we had PCR tests in case they weren’t.

Forty-eight hours later we stood on the railway platform, surrounded by our cases. The journey home had begun.

In what was to be a repeated pattern, Manchester airport was deserted,

and, amazingly, this was the full complement on the flight to Singapore.

Changi Airport, which typically throbs and heaves with humanity, was also eerily empty.

And then, abruptly, we were back, but it didn't feel like home. Our heads were spinning as we staggered from the plane in Sydney, and as we boarded the train to the Blue Mountains, we found ourselves struggling to come to grips with our surroundings. After two years of living with the soft light and mostly grey skies of the UK, we found the bright sunlight to be harsh, and the blue sky blinding.

Bitter-sweet news from the UK greeted our return to Australia - Matanuska had sold the same day that she was listed, and we were at once elated and desolate. It was all moving too swiftly.

That was it then - it was over

Over the next two weeks, whilst waiting out the mandatory 14 days before flying into Queensland, we kept mostly to ourselves and took the opportunity to sleep and to walk, and to allow our heads to come to steady-as-she-goes.

And then, once again, the regime of PCR tests and more forms to submit, before stuffing bits and pieces back into suitcases and setting off on the final leg.

Sydney airport as we'd not experienced it before

On the ground in Brisbane now, we collected our suitcases, retrieved the car, and then finally, after three weeks of travelling, we headed home. What a journey it had been.

And so, Dear Motley Crew, we have reached the end of our adventure together. Our heartfelt thanks to those crew members who provided us with regular and ongoing support all through the long months of lockdown - your humour and constancy were vital to our well-being.

We hope that each of you who have travelled the waterways with us have enjoyed your time aboard Matanuska. We loved having you along.

The Captain and The Commodore.

P.S. In the end, Mrs Chippy found that she couldn't countenance leaving the boat. I suspect that on moonlit nights, the new owners may stir in their sleep and later swear that they saw the form of a black cat drifting through the boat. Safe travels Mrs Chippy!