Log entry 1 of 4 · Locks
Working the Regent's Canal locks with a crew of two
Most of our trips into town start and end with the Regent's Canal locks, and most weekends there are only two of us aboard. It took a full season of fumbling before the pair of us had a routine that did not involve shouting, and this is that routine as it stands now.
- First written up
- 16 March 2025
- Last amended
- 2 May 2025
- Time to read it
- Roughly 7 minutes
- Home waters
- Regent's Canal and the Lee Navigation
Stretch 1
Who steps off, and where
On a narrowboat with two crew, one person steers and one person works the lock. That sounds obvious until you are approaching a lock from below with a stiff wind across the cut and a queue of hire boats behind you, and it becomes clear that the person who is going to work the lock needs to be on the towpath rather than on the roof. We used to drop the lock-worker at the lock landing itself. It meant the boat had to stop, hold position against whatever the wind was doing, and wait while somebody clambered off with a windlass in one hand and a coffee in the other.
These days the lock-worker steps off well before the landing, at the first bit of straight, firm bank with no bushes and no moored boats in the way. On the Regent's Canal that is usually fifty metres or so below the lock, and it gives them a head start of a minute or two to walk up, look at the lock and decide whether it is with us or against us. The steerer then brings the boat in slowly and either holds off in mid-channel or noses gently into the landing, depending on how busy it is.
The one rule we do not break is that nobody steps off a moving boat onto a wet or crumbling edge. The towpath through Camden and Islington is mostly hard and dry, but further east there are stretches where the coping stones are uneven and slippery after rain. Stepping off there is how people end up in the water between the boat and the wall, which is the worst place in the whole canal to be.
Stretch 2
Reading the lock before touching anything
The lock-worker's first job is to look, not to wind. Is the lock full or empty? Are both sets of gates shut? Are any paddles already up, which would mean somebody else has started working it or has walked away without closing them? Is there a boat coming the other way? A lock that is already set for an oncoming boat should be left for them rather than turned round for us. Turning it wastes a whole lockful of water and annoys everyone involved, rightly.
We carry two windlasses, one with a long throw for the stiffer paddle gear and a short one that fits in a coat pocket. The gear on the Regent's Canal ranges from sweet and easy to downright stubborn, and a few of the ground paddles need both hands and a braced foot. Some paddles have anti-vandal locks that need a separate key. We keep ours on a lanyard with a cork float, because the first one we owned went into the lock at St Pancras on our second trip and is presumably still there.
When the lock needs filling for us to go up, the lock-worker opens the ground paddles first and the gate paddles only once the rising water has covered them. Opening gate paddles on an empty lock with a boat inside sends a jet straight onto the bow and into the front well deck. We have watched a front cabin door flooded that way from the towpath, and were glad to learn it at somebody else's expense.
Crew checklist
- Look at both ends of the lock before winding anything
- Ground paddles first when filling; gate paddles once they are underwater
- Windlass off the spindle every time, never left on a raised paddle
- Keep the stern forward of the cill marker when going down
Stretch 3
The steerer's half of the job
Going uphill, the boat goes into an empty lock and sits there while it fills. The steerer's job is to keep the boat towards the back of the chamber, away from the top gates, and to hold it still with a little forward gear against the rush of water rather than letting it be shoved about. Going downhill, the risk flips. The danger then is the cill, the stone step under the top gates that the stern can catch on as the level drops. We painted a small white mark on the cabin side level with where the back of the boat should stay, and whoever is steering watches that mark and the cill line on the lock wall rather than the lock-worker.
It took us a while to agree on signals. Shouting over the noise of water coming through a paddle does not work, and the engine does not help. We settled on three hand signals: a flat palm for stop everything, a circling finger for carry on, and a pointed hand for which gate to open. They are not official and other crews use different ones, but the point is that both of us know what the other means before we arrive at the lock.
The steerer also has the easier job, and should admit it. On a cold day the lock-worker walks a long way, leans on heavy balance beams and gets wet hands. On long days we swap at every third or fourth lock, and always after the Islington tunnel, because whoever steered through nine hundred-odd metres of dripping dark has earned a walk in the daylight.
Stretch 4
The gate we learned not to rush
The lesson that shaped all of this came at Kentish Town Lock in our first summer. We were running late, the lock was nearly full, and I pushed the top gate before the levels had fully made up. The gate moved about a hand's width, the last of the water surged through the gap, and the boat, which was sitting a little too far forward, swung and knocked its bow against the gate. Nothing broke. But the gate had been forced against a head of water it was never meant to move against, and a volunteer walking past explained, very calmly, that this is exactly how gates and gear get damaged.
Since then, whoever is working the lock waits until the gate moves easily. If the balance beam needs a real shove, the levels are not equal yet. On some locks there is a little ripple along the gap even after the water looks level, and we wait for that to settle too. It adds perhaps a minute to each lock. Across the run of locks between Camden and Limehouse that comes to a quarter of an hour on a trip that already takes most of a day, and it has not once felt like a waste.
The other change was to stop apologising to people waiting on the towpath. Walkers, joggers and visitors stop to watch a lock being worked, and on busy Saturdays there can be a small crowd at the Camden locks. It is tempting to hurry and put on a show for them. We no longer do. The lock takes as long as it takes, and the crowd usually learns more from watching somebody wait for the water than from watching somebody heave at a gate.