Life on the water

I often receive so many beautiful questions about life on the canal boat that it feels only right for this to be the beginning of my very first blog post on my brand new website, a tender, two-year (classic Aries, stop-start) creative unfolding that has asked for patience, devotion, and a little cosmic encouragement. With the dreamy pull of Pisces and Venus, and Saturn and Neptune meeting at that potent 0° of Aries, something in me whispered, now is the time. Press the button…give it life….let it breathe. Thank you, brave Aries spark.

If you’re new here, hello. I’m April, a nature-loving, animal-adoring, movement-devoted wanderer working in the realms of movement, sound and therapy. Since May 2025 I’ve been living on a canal boat, gently drifting through the seasons.

The boat moves at 4mph….FOUR miles per hour.

There is something profoundly humbling about that pace, you absolutely cannot rush a canal boat. You cannot weave through traffic or overtake your way to somewhere faster, the only option is to simply move, unhurried, softly…carried along a narrow ribbon of water. Living at 4mph is slowly doing something to my being, really it has reminded me that life is not a race but a gentle unfolding. That sometimes the most aligned way forward is slow, steady, and almost imperceptible. It feels a little like moving with the Tao…not forcing the current, but allowing it to hold you.

I’ve been drawn to water since I was small, not so much to dive into it (I used to actually find deep water super scary, albeit now I love to go splash around in the ocean waters), but to watch it. The texture, how it folds and ripples & the light swirling on the surface. Since my twenties, I’ve secretly wondered what it would be like to live upon it. A few years ago, I met my partner, someone who shared the same dream and our first date/not date was meandering along the towpath so it felt very aligned.

So last year we bought Violet, our 1980s 70ft semi-traditional narrowboat, from Devizes, not far from the mystical Avebury stone circle, a place that hums with something ancient and potent, if you haven’t been definitely go and check it out during the quieter months, it has an energy that’s without a doubt!

Now that we’ve moved through all four seasons afloat, I can say it has been one of the greatest teachers of my life.

Spring cruising was a DREAM (well for most parts!!!). Early golden mornings, long dusky evenings. We barely spent time inside, always on the roof, walking the towpaths, chatting with passers-by who would pause, curious and kind, there’s such a lovely natural openness that happens on the water.

Summer felt expansive and full, and a times a little busy due to retreat life, however I was super stoked to open the boat for my first 1:1 sound healings, a floating sanctuary. Because we were continuously cruising, people had to seek us out a little, which somehow made the experience even more magical. (We were never more than ten minutes from parking, I promise.) Holding space on the water is powerful. After a 1:1, stepping back outside to birdsong, bees circling lazily, sunlight flickering on the surface, it feels like the healing continues in every direction, if you are reading this and you are one of the individuals who came for a 1:1 thank you from the bottom of my heart, I loved holding this space!

My partner built a beautiful little yoga deck on the roof for my morning and evening practices. I imagined yangy morning flows, but truthfully I used it just as much for cloud-watching, reading, writing and very gentle somatic practices that have quietly stolen my heart these past eighteen months. The solar panels brimmed with summer sun. We had light, a humming fridge, warm evenings, no need for fire. It was really simple, abundant, peaceful and so deeply joyful. There were however many moments where we ran out of water mid cooking and had to find water supplies and turning points for the boat which were always a bit of an adventure - big learning about having to plan a little ahead of time!

Autumn arrived in a blaze of colour and hush. The canal suddenly felt soooo much quieter and the light began to dim in beautiful hues of amber. We were still at this point continuously cruising, which means moving every two weeks, and while it comes with its practical challenges, I love the rhythm of it, I enjoy new surroundings and embracing impermanence. I even love working the locks (most days…OK well like 50/50). There’s something ancestral about it, pushing heavy beams, feeling the burn in your legs, imagining the hands that did this long before you…it feels like stepping sideways in time.

Winter, though…winter asked more of me (a lot more than maybe I had imagined). The vata-pitta parts of my constitution felt the cold DEEPLY (after MANY a meltdown…which now as I write this I can laugh). With only an Arga and a small wood burner to heat the boat, warmth becomes superrrr precious. And here is one very practical lesson from boat life…Have more wood than you think you need. Then get some more.

But when the fire is lit and the cabin warms, it becomes such a little romantic nest & sauna, it also makes such a lovely little space for movement & meditation practice, with the fairy lights on and the fires roaring. A cocoon against the wind and snow and ice. We’ve rocked through high winds, listened to rain drum on the roof, watched frost lace the windows. There is a quiet intimacy to winter afloat that I have come to cherish.

And somewhere across these seasons, a few deeper lessons have anchored themselves deeply into my bones…

• Make space for stillness…lots of it.
• If something doesn’t feel aligned, don’t force it.
• You do not have to mould yourself to societal norms. Live authentically, even if it looks different. Especially if it looks different.
• Community is medicine. Towpath chats, shared tools, borrowed hands, it heals something ancient in us.
• Accept help when you need it (big one for me). Boats were never meant to be handled entirely alone.
• And truly…store more wood than you think is reasonable.

We’ve had so much work to complete on Violet, and there is still a ton more to do. But for once I’m not rushing….at 4mph, I’ve learnt that steady is sacred. We’re shaping the boat slowly, intentionally, allowing it to become what it wants to be, and what we need it to be. So if you visit for a 1:1 throughout the year, expect her to keep evolving.

If you feel called to experience a 1:1 session on the water…to sit, float, soften and listen, you are so welcome here.

Life at 4mph has taught me this…Slow down. Tend the fire. Trust the current. Let life unfold.

With love,

April x