Raw data

Our "red book" is our trusty ship's journal, where we record all manner of barely noteworthy trivia.

Our “red book” is our trusty ship’s journal, where we record all manner of barely noteworthy trivia.

I’ve handed in the draft of my translated novel. Whoop de whoop! In celebration, and because I’m a little over words, I give you NUMBERS. Beautiful numbers. Here comes the summary of our cruising year (eight months, actually) from Yelvertoft marina, way back on that icy day in April, to today, in Braunston marina, in the wind.

1,144.5 miles travelled
808 locks conquered
601.5 hours of cruising

But what does this mean? Let’s look at the data more closely, shall we?

First up, averages. Everyone likes an average don’t they? Our average week comes out at 34 miles and 26 locks over 18 hours cruising.

Next, outliers. Our ‘biggest’ month was August. Hands down the winner at a heady 128.5 miles and 156 locks over 95.5 hours. Thank goodness we had plenty of visitors to help us through the northern locks of the Leeds and Liverpool and Huddersfield Narrow canals. However, interestingly, the hardest week in terms of number of locks was not the legendary Huddersfield Narrow but the Stratford Canal. That week in May, we did 60 locks. And July was the month where we just kept going – maybe something to do with all that glorious sunshine? – clocking up a heady 58.5 miles in one week alone.

Not surprisingly, as we stopped cruising with still a week of the month to go, November only managed a paltry 71.5 miles and 79 locks (42 hours) and comes in as our ‘smallest’ cruising month. But, interestingly, it wasn’t our flattest month – that honour goes to September with only 74 locks.

Now, we’ve done a little back-of-an-envelope calculating and, if you allow that each lock is roughly eight feet deep, our 808 locks means that we’ve done the equivalent of climbing Mount Snowden (and back down again too) in Felucca. Nice work.

And if we had moved our floating house in a (more or less) straight line, day by day, starting from Yelvertoft… we could have ended up in Valencia!

Flipping Nora.

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