I’ve been trying to buy a house for about five years and with a pandemic, prices shooting up and now mortgage rates at around 7%, I’ve given up. Houses used to be a solid investment but my mortgage would be nearly double what it would have been, plus I’d have to live in a shit area where I’d probably hate my neighbours.

Why a narrowboat?

Narrowboats caught my attention a few years ago but I didn’t have the money on hand and marine mortgages have insane interest rates, so it was a no go at that time. Fast forward to me having a nice deposit saved up and it became an option. I viewed a few boats including one that didn’t have much hull left or a working bathroom, and one at a brokerage which had a mildew smell that hinted at water being where it shouldn’t have been.

A flippant comment to a volunteering colleague at FareShare led to meeting a lovely couple who were about to sell their narrowboat called Thin Lizzy. The owner used to build boats and Lizzy has all kinds of clever touches that have come from years of seeing what works. As soon as I set foot aboard I felt at home and wanted to buy her.

How to buy a narrowboat

The Survey

Despite Lizzy looking incredible, I knew nothing about boats and all the books and blogs said to get a survey carried out. This mainly checks the thickness of the steel hull, but I went for the full survey which included interior checks too. I went with Ade from https://www.surveys4boats.co.uk/ and he was awesome.

Arranging the survey was a faff however, as he was only available for a few days over the summer and the boat has to come out of the water at a marina. Marinas are still living in the 1990s apparently and don’t respond to emails or even phone calls. Going in to the office was required to get things sorted. Also, the owners needed to prove she was insured and take her round to the marina, which was luckily close to where she’s moored. A few days ahead of the survey we found out the one lock inbetween the two locations was closed due to lack of water! Eventually the planets aligned, I was nearly £1k poorer for the survey, lift out & jetwash and the survey day approached.

Lizzy hauled out of the water and awaiting a man who will hit her with a hammer

The surveyor agreed for the owners and myself to be there during the survey and it was great to see the process. The hull was mostly fine aside from some minor pitting in a couple of areas that will need addressing next time she is taken out and ‘blacked’ – where the hull is painted with low tech bitumen to allegedly slow down rusting of the hull. He was surprised at how clean and easily accessible the engine bay was and complimented the chap that built her on that.

A wild boat broker appeared while I wasn’t there, but gladly he didn’t stick his oar in too much and the owners were happy to continue the sale to me. This survey process was mega stressful as I had spent a fair bit of money at this point and was hoping there was nothing wrong with her. The survey came back with only a couple of points about how she’s ballasted and that an air vent for the engine is low to the waterline and needs to be plated over next time she comes out of the water. Phew!

Paperwork

The weirdest thing about buying a boat is that there’s no DVLA equivalent for boats. The Canal & River Trust who issue the licenses (I’ll return to that later..) have data on boats but there’s no ‘boat V5 document’ that gets exchanged when buying a narrowboat. I drew up a ‘bill of sale’ based on the RYA one that pinned down how much, what deposit will be paid, when final payment will be made and where the handover will happen. This was all pretty nerve wracking as I trusted them, but it’s still a lot of money to send to a relative stranger.

Banking

Co-op bank were extremely cautious about me transferring large sums of money to a new recipient. While it added another to-do list item to ring them up, I was reassured by their ‘anti-scam’ questions. The lady from the Coop had grown up with narrowboats so she was as excited as I was.

Once the money was transferred and the handover date set, we were ready to go!

Post-handover

Once I had Lizzy’s keys in my hand, I had to sort moorings, insurance and the Canal & River Trust (CRT) licences out. Luckily the current leisure mooring owner was happy for Lizzy to stay there until the month’s pre-paid mooring expired, which gave me some breathing space.

The insurer enquired about my boating experience (none..) and required me to carry out a helmsman’s course before I’m insured for accidents while driving the boat. I didn’t even think about this, and that course is another £300 I wasn’t expecting. I got insured anyway as I needed that in place to secure my CRT licence and mooring, and the thought of Lizzy sitting there uninsured was stressing me out.

The Canal & River Trust look after most of the rivers and canals in the UK, including repairing the ancient locks and making sure there’s enough water in the canal system. It can dry up or people let canal water out into rivers! While I understand that is expensive work and they can’t have people dodging paying their fair share, the licensing feels heavy handed and complicated.

You can buy a river, canal or combined license for 3, 6 or 12 months. I wanted to go for a cruise ASAP and got a 3 month river and canal license, which I can downgrade to a rivers only license for winter. There’s no pay monthly or pro-rata on the 3 month one though, so I had to pay for all of August just to go on one cruise. That sucked. You also have to pay the CRT license even if you never leave a marina, which also seems a bit unfair.

Long Term Residential Mooring

The options are ‘continuous cruising’ where you have to move every 14 days, a leisure mooring or a residential mooring. After viewing various marinas that varied from a chaotic farmer, a caravan park with boats and the super shiny corporate Aquavista group, I decided to go with Aquavista. Their facilities are way better, they have a nice cafe on site where I can do a bit of work from and they have 1gb fibre internet available to the pontoon! I also get a proper address, where other marinas would be a ‘leisure mooring’ and I wouldn’t be officially living there (for council tax reasons).

While I love the idea of a slightly anarchic farm, or ‘continuously cruising’ the canal network, I have internet based work to do and my girlfriend lives nearby. Constantly moving sounds like a pain in the arse for water, food, toilet emptying and internet. One thing at a time – I’m going to get used to living in a tiny metal tube near to facilities before heading off into the great unknown.

Even the super shiny marina option needed constant visits to get things pinned down as their onboarding process just didn’t work.

Decluttering & moving aboard

I’m in a small flat at the moment and will be moving over the next couple of weeks. Despite the compact flat, I’ve still got way too much stuff. A pile of tech acquired over lockdown has had to go, as will a lovely Oak King size bed and Simba mattress I only bought earlier this year. There’s very little space aboard Thin Lizzy so I’m going to be living a minimal life, which appeals to me despite having to cull my possessions. Olio has been great for giving stuff away and Facebook marketplace (ugh) surprisingly good for selling things.

Summary

Buying Thin Lizzy direct from the owners has been a complicated and stressful process. There are a lot of moving parts and using a broker would have made things easier, but probably put the boat out of my reach once they cranked the price and added their commission.

Coming next: Our first trip down the canal featuring getting stuck in the marina exit due to sidewinds, realising we have no idea how to drive or moor a boat, fantastic views and meeting lots of friendly boaters.