The beautiful Welsh canal that's fighting closure
Setting off in a hired narrowboat, there is a choice of two directions: left or right. From Beacon Park Boats, on the Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal near Llangattock, one direction – according to the company's illustrated map – promises 'a totally relaxed, stress-free and lock-free weekend'. The sales pitch for the other direction (north) read: 'Tackle the Llangyndir lock-flight'. There are few weekends during which I enjoy any kind of tackling. But that is the direction we chose. Meanwhile, a group of youngsters – first-time boaters, unlike our party – headed south with copious bottles of alcohol cooling in an ice-box on their back deck.
It started well. In the company of Sam, a member of staff from whom we learnt the ropes, we cruised past historic lime kilns, around bends and under old stone bridges. A flat-topped mountain and escarpments rose high above us. We moored opposite a sloping field of bleating sheep and frothy hawthorn blossom; fluffy ducklings cheeped on petal-strewn, glittering water. We wandered down to a village pub. Surely this direction promised a relaxing weekend too?
The next day, the stress began. It wasn't the five locks that were the problem (volunteer lock keepers on duty made them easy work) it was the depth – or lack of it – of the water. This isolated 35-mile canal has always been shallow – 'it was built on the cheap,' said one lock keeper – and, as a result, has a notional speed limit of 2mph, half that of other canals. We were also in the biggest boat in the Beacon Park Boats fleet: Drake, 60ft 12 in long and 8ft 6 in wide. This meant lots of twists and turns.
Each of Beacon Park's boats is unique, designed by owner Alasdair Kirkpatrick, inspired by his love of fancy yachts. One vessel has a four-poster bed, another has a hot-tub on the front deck. With touches such as complimentary decanters of Welsh Penderyn whisky, they are the most expensive canal boats to hire in the country. Three nights in June on Drake costs over £2,000. What would those early boatmen who laboured with cargoes of coal and limestone think?
With its interior of highly varnished red cherry wood and ash stripes, the boat brought to mind a circus tent. This proved apt. Before long, we found ourselves in the middle of a five-boat log-jam all going aground in the shallow canal. Passers-by on the towpath stopped to enjoy the spectacle. Barge poles flailed everywhere. Skippers shouted advice over the growl of engines. Hulls scraped over stones.
One hiker offered to help, so we threw him our bow rope and he heaved like a horse. An old man on a bike stopped to yell insults. Some laughed, some cried. Eventually, just as I was wondering whether someone would start a trapeze act from the towering trees overhead, the log-jam began to shift and one by one the boats freed themselves and continued on their way. Skippers smiled and cheered.
Our northward journey that day – a grand total of seven miles and five locks – took nine hours. On any other canal, you would estimate a journey time of about four hours. Turning around in the silted-up winding hole was a challenge. Again, people stopped to enjoy the entertainment.
While it is true that this canal has always been shallow, there were boaters who said they thought it was more shallow than usual. 'We didn't have any problems last time we came, but we've been truly stuck this time. We had to ask for help,' said Helen Thurber who, with her husband Bob, had flown in from their home in the US. This was their third time to cruise on the Monmouthshire and Brecon.
The long dry spring which has resulted in the closure of some inland waterways, such as the Rochdale Canal, the Leeds and Liverpool Canal and the Pocklington Canal, nearly saw the closure of this one too. Lack of rain and new legislation designed to protect the ecology of the River Usk that feeds the canal, meant the 'Mon & Brec', which is estimated to bring in £25 million to the local economy, faced the prospect of closing to navigation.
An emergency stop-gap solution has now been agreed, with the Canal & River Trust (CRT) paying Welsh Water for supplies. Richard Parry, chief Executive of the CRT, says this could cost as much as £100,000 a week if the dry spell continues. Kirkpatrick is concerned about the implications. 'This canal is too important to fail, so CRT will pay Welsh Water silly money to keep it open and the rest of the canal network will suffer,' he says. ' Lack of rain in Wales – yes, surprising – will mean funding cuts across the rest of the inland waterways.'
The youngsters who had headed south returned to base a few hours after us, their ice-box of drinks now empty. 'How was it?' I asked.
'We got stuck for two and a half hours!' said one of the party, Joe Richardson, from Essex.
It wasn't the shallow water that was their undoing. They had tried to turn in a winding hole that was too short for their boat. Then they had to reverse for an hour and a half to get back to the winding hole they should have used. It sounded anything but 'relaxed and stress-free'. Despite this, Joe was upbeat. 'We'd definitely come back. We loved the scenery and the boat,' he said. 'Although next time we might choose a smaller one.'
The beauty of this isolated canal, with its views of mountains glimpsed through trees, is unsurpassed. In the spring sunshine it was glorious. As well as two long days cruising, we found time for hikes: over a sheep-grazed hill with far-reaching views, and to the top of the escarpments above Llangattock. A cuckoo called, lambs bleated, the air was full of the scent of hawthorn. Mercifully, just as we were leaving, it began to rain.
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Telegraph
4 hours ago
- Telegraph
The beautiful Welsh canal that's fighting closure
Setting off in a hired narrowboat, there is a choice of two directions: left or right. From Beacon Park Boats, on the Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal near Llangattock, one direction – according to the company's illustrated map – promises 'a totally relaxed, stress-free and lock-free weekend'. The sales pitch for the other direction (north) read: 'Tackle the Llangyndir lock-flight'. There are few weekends during which I enjoy any kind of tackling. But that is the direction we chose. Meanwhile, a group of youngsters – first-time boaters, unlike our party – headed south with copious bottles of alcohol cooling in an ice-box on their back deck. It started well. In the company of Sam, a member of staff from whom we learnt the ropes, we cruised past historic lime kilns, around bends and under old stone bridges. A flat-topped mountain and escarpments rose high above us. We moored opposite a sloping field of bleating sheep and frothy hawthorn blossom; fluffy ducklings cheeped on petal-strewn, glittering water. We wandered down to a village pub. Surely this direction promised a relaxing weekend too? The next day, the stress began. It wasn't the five locks that were the problem (volunteer lock keepers on duty made them easy work) it was the depth – or lack of it – of the water. This isolated 35-mile canal has always been shallow – 'it was built on the cheap,' said one lock keeper – and, as a result, has a notional speed limit of 2mph, half that of other canals. We were also in the biggest boat in the Beacon Park Boats fleet: Drake, 60ft 12 in long and 8ft 6 in wide. This meant lots of twists and turns. Each of Beacon Park's boats is unique, designed by owner Alasdair Kirkpatrick, inspired by his love of fancy yachts. One vessel has a four-poster bed, another has a hot-tub on the front deck. With touches such as complimentary decanters of Welsh Penderyn whisky, they are the most expensive canal boats to hire in the country. Three nights in June on Drake costs over £2,000. What would those early boatmen who laboured with cargoes of coal and limestone think? With its interior of highly varnished red cherry wood and ash stripes, the boat brought to mind a circus tent. This proved apt. Before long, we found ourselves in the middle of a five-boat log-jam all going aground in the shallow canal. Passers-by on the towpath stopped to enjoy the spectacle. Barge poles flailed everywhere. Skippers shouted advice over the growl of engines. Hulls scraped over stones. One hiker offered to help, so we threw him our bow rope and he heaved like a horse. An old man on a bike stopped to yell insults. Some laughed, some cried. Eventually, just as I was wondering whether someone would start a trapeze act from the towering trees overhead, the log-jam began to shift and one by one the boats freed themselves and continued on their way. Skippers smiled and cheered. Our northward journey that day – a grand total of seven miles and five locks – took nine hours. On any other canal, you would estimate a journey time of about four hours. Turning around in the silted-up winding hole was a challenge. Again, people stopped to enjoy the entertainment. While it is true that this canal has always been shallow, there were boaters who said they thought it was more shallow than usual. 'We didn't have any problems last time we came, but we've been truly stuck this time. We had to ask for help,' said Helen Thurber who, with her husband Bob, had flown in from their home in the US. This was their third time to cruise on the Monmouthshire and Brecon. The long dry spring which has resulted in the closure of some inland waterways, such as the Rochdale Canal, the Leeds and Liverpool Canal and the Pocklington Canal, nearly saw the closure of this one too. Lack of rain and new legislation designed to protect the ecology of the River Usk that feeds the canal, meant the 'Mon & Brec', which is estimated to bring in £25 million to the local economy, faced the prospect of closing to navigation. An emergency stop-gap solution has now been agreed, with the Canal & River Trust (CRT) paying Welsh Water for supplies. Richard Parry, chief Executive of the CRT, says this could cost as much as £100,000 a week if the dry spell continues. Kirkpatrick is concerned about the implications. 'This canal is too important to fail, so CRT will pay Welsh Water silly money to keep it open and the rest of the canal network will suffer,' he says. ' Lack of rain in Wales – yes, surprising – will mean funding cuts across the rest of the inland waterways.' The youngsters who had headed south returned to base a few hours after us, their ice-box of drinks now empty. 'How was it?' I asked. 'We got stuck for two and a half hours!' said one of the party, Joe Richardson, from Essex. It wasn't the shallow water that was their undoing. They had tried to turn in a winding hole that was too short for their boat. Then they had to reverse for an hour and a half to get back to the winding hole they should have used. It sounded anything but 'relaxed and stress-free'. Despite this, Joe was upbeat. 'We'd definitely come back. We loved the scenery and the boat,' he said. 'Although next time we might choose a smaller one.' The beauty of this isolated canal, with its views of mountains glimpsed through trees, is unsurpassed. In the spring sunshine it was glorious. As well as two long days cruising, we found time for hikes: over a sheep-grazed hill with far-reaching views, and to the top of the escarpments above Llangattock. A cuckoo called, lambs bleated, the air was full of the scent of hawthorn. Mercifully, just as we were leaving, it began to rain.
Times
17 hours ago
- Times
I've discovered the most fun trip to take with my grown-up daughter
'Yeehaw!' I yell as I whip along at about 20mph looking at endless skinny-skyscraper trees and lush greenery below, my stomach lurching and every nerve ending standing to attention. Although I dislike heights, I've agreed to this zip-line adventure on the island of Roatan, just off the coast of Honduras, and can feel the adrenaline pumping around my body, creating a sense of terror and excitement. 'Well done, Mum,' laughs my 20-year-old daughter, Lara, as I whizz onto the platform where she is waiting for me. She is beaming broadly and clearly having the time of her life. But there is no time to bask in her praise as she is already being clipped on to the next high wire, which stretches deep into the jungle ahead, and seconds later is leaping into the air, yelling 'See ya!' behind her. Over the course of 90 minutes, Lara and I and some 15 or so other passengers on Virgin Voyages' Scarlet Lady undertake a lengthy course of ten zip lines through the tropical rainforest. It's an exhilarating excursion and worth the cost (£80pp) — Lara and I can't stop chatting about it as we take the minibus back to the ship. We're drenched to the skin and splattered with mud as there has been heavy tropical rain all morning, but such was the buzz that we scarcely noticed the downpour. And that is exactly what I'd been hoping to get from sharing this six-day voyage with Lara, who is on a reading week during her final year of university — that it would give us some precious mother-and-daughter time. Lara had not set foot on a cruise ship before and was thrilled at the prospect of visiting four countries — the US, Mexico, Honduras and the Bahamas — on this six-day Western Caribbean Charm itinerary, though I was slightly concerned that she might find herself surrounded by people much older than her. I needn't have worried. Compared with the few other cruises I've taken, Scarlet Lady's 2,770-capacity crowd is very diverse. Yes, it's adults only and the majority are Americans, with a smattering of Brits and other Europeans, but their ages span from twenties to sixties and there is a mix of ethnicities, sexualities, shapes and sizes. And we're far from alone in being a parent-and-child combo. While Lara's pick of the excursions is ziplining, as a history-lover I'm in my element when we visit the Mayan ruins of Chacchoben in Mexico, dating from AD700 (£78pp). Despite another drenching during this outing — unseasonal cloudbursts during what is supposed to be the country's dry season — the rain doesn't dampen the cheery and brilliant commentary of our guide, Diana Garcia, who suggests that 'perhaps we could perform a human sacrifice or two to keep the gods happy and bring out the sun', like those of the ancient civilisation. Her explanation of the Mayan pyramids, how they were built on top of previous structures and used as places of worship, makes for a fascinating few hours. To dry ourselves off and warm up when we're back on board Lara and I head for a three-hour session in the thermal suite of the Redemption spa (£61pp). Drifting between the salt and steam rooms, sauna and various hot and cool pools proves very relaxing, and I fall fast asleep when I lie down on the heated marble hammam bench. I only come to when Lara shakes me awake, as she doesn't want to miss out on the final part of the experience — slathering ourselves with 'healing' mud. The 15-minute coating in brown gloop while sitting in steam is more appealing than it sounds — or at least the clean and pleasantly tingly feeling once it's showered off makes it worthwhile. It's not our only visit to the spa as, during one of our two sea days, I treat us to a 75-minute massage each in the recently launched extra-large treatment room (£220pp). My request for a 'full-throttle pummelling' and Lara's for 'gentle pressure' are heeded and we glide back to our cabin afterwards, all muscular tension having been skilfully worked away. The treatment room is one of several additions from which Scarlet Lady, launched in August 2021, has recently benefited as part of its 'glow-up'. Others include 24 new suites, six swish poolside cabanas, a Chinese-inspired menu in the Razzle Dazzle restaurant and a revamped coffee shop. What's more, the risqué 'participatory' show Never Sleep Alone has been quietly dropped. • Read our full guide to cruises The party spirit, though, is as strong as ever. There's just time for a quick rest and delicious takeaway from the Pizza Place (included, as are all the restaurants) because we need to get dressed and made up for the midweek highlight of the cruise: Scarlet Night. We've brought our glad rags specifically, and I'm happy we did — when we leave our cabin we're faced by a sea of other passengers all dressed, like us, top to toe in red. It may sound gimmicky, but putting our scepticism and British reserve aside it's great fun seeing a whole ship of people wearing the same colour and obviously up for a party. The mood is gloriously upbeat. A couple of excellent espresso martinis under our belt in the Grounds Club bar (£11 each) and we're ready to hit the dancefloor in the aptly named Red Room, and we don't stop for the next three and a half hours as the DJ keeps everyone happy with a soundtrack of hits from the past four decades. I manage to notch up no fewer than 14,500 steps with my disco moves, which my daughter may find hilarious, but there's no shortage of fellow passengers willing to boogie with me. • 10 of the best cruise lines for first-timers Mind you, the next day I feel the aftermath with a few new aches and pains in my limbs, and wonder whether signing up for a bungee fitness class — something neither of us has done before — is the best idea. Fortunately, it's so much fun bouncing in a harness fixed to the ceiling while trying everything from push-ups to squat jumps that my dancing twinges are soon forgotten. Lara and I even manage to follow the instructor into an upside-down hold — possibly not the perfect position with a hangover, but the class is over before any serious consequences occur. During our voyage we also try out spin classes and high-intensity interval training — both included and as good as any I've attended in the UK. The gym also impresses with the quality of its machines and the number of them — there's never a need to queue. Not that we focus excessively on the body beautiful during the voyage. Our enthusiasm for the gym is largely driven by the need to work up an appetite, as there's a plethora of restaurants from which to choose. Our favourites are Extra Virgin, an Italian with authentic pasta dishes, and the Wake, so called because it's at the back of the ship. Not only does the latter look uber stylish, with cream leather seating, plush carpets and crisp table linen, but the food and service are akin to a Michelin-starred dining room. Lara's herb-stuffed chicken and my hanger steak — with sides of brown-butter-roasted wild mushrooms, twice-baked potato with caramelised onions and asparagus with guindilla sauce — are flawless. Yes, there are dishes on the menu that come with additional price tags, such as lobster and oysters, but it's no hardship opting for those that are included. Another of our on-board highlights is the show Duel Reality, a jaw-dropping dance and acrobatic spectacle loosely based on the story of Romeo and Juliet. The cast truly earn their standing ovation and, had time allowed, we would happily have gone to see it again. • 19 of the best Caribbean cruise lines for 2025 Indeed, the only disappointment of our week is that freak weather conditions mean our day at Virgin's beach club on Bimini, in the Bahamas, is positively chilly. High winds result in our longed-for swimming with stingrays excursion being cancelled at the last minute (£93). Still, we go for a dip in the turquoise ocean and jump the waves for a while. And that we don't see a single stingray gets me off the hook with a half-promise I made Lara — to get matching stingray tattoos at Scarlet Lady's Squid Ink Tattoo Parlor as a reminder of our trip (£155pp). It would have been my first inking. 'It's always worth saving something for next time,' I say, consoling her yet scarcely disguising my Huddart was a guest of Virgin Voyages, which has six nights' full board on its Western Caribbean Charm itinerary aboard Scarlet Lady departing on November 9 from £1,415pp, including soft drinks, wi-fi, gym classes and crew tips ( Fly to Miami
Telegraph
20 hours ago
- Telegraph
The midlife women swapping wellness retreats for ‘purposeful adventure'
A therapist once told me there are two types of women that emerge from the menopause: those who retreat, their confidence waning, choosing a smaller life; and those who lean in, craving reinvention and adventure after years of caregiving and routine. So, which one was I? I've always been comfortable with travel. I run a business, Night Nannies, which places maternity nurses and nannies with families overnight, and our children work in the US, so my husband and I regularly cross the Atlantic. But, if I'm honest, that kind of travel always felt functional, not adventurous. So when a friend returned from trekking in Peru, aglow from camping under the stars and living out of a rucksack, I felt a pang. The last time I'd stepped that far out of my comfort zone was backpacking in the late Eighties. Could I still do it? Could I still be that woman? The Peru trip had been organised by a specialist travel company called The Leap, founded by the magnetic Milly Whitehead – a woman who inspired a jolt of recognition upon meeting. Here was someone who understood what so many of us grapple with: the strange, in-between space that midlife can bring. The kids were grown and gone. The routines were set. The ambition that once drove me didn't quite resonate anymore, but neither did slowing down. I didn't want a spa. I wanted substance. Whitehead's message cut through the noise of hormone hacks and wellness fads: Midlife isn't a crisis. It's a catalyst. A moment to reassess and reawaken – not through therapy, but through action. When you challenge yourself, contribute to something meaningful, and laugh under the stars with people who see you, really see you, you remember who you are. That's what The Leap gives you: not a fix, but a return to self. Something clicked. So, at 57, I signed up for a trip to Colombia with a group of 12 women, to immerse myself in a place I knew little about, with the hope that something meaningful might unfold. Whitehead's Leap trips always mix a blend of culture, challenge, and contribution – a recipe she first rediscovered during a trip to Namibia with midlife friends. That experience reignited her sense of confidence and connection, and proved that this kind of purposeful adventure wasn't just for 18-year-olds. Ours began in the highlands of Bucaramanga after a short flight from Bogotá and a white-knuckle bus ride to Barichara, which often referred to as Colombia's most beautiful town. With cobbled streets, whitewashed buildings and terracotta roofs, it felt timeless. Our guide, Josie Topp, a long-time resident, opened doors to experiences we'd never have found on our own. We explored artisan markets full of handwoven textiles and pottery. That night, over a sunset dinner of local cuisine, including the infamous culonas (ants), I felt more present than I had in years. The next morning began with yoga in a shaman's home – gong baths, breathwork, jungle sounds – to align our energy before the real adventure began. The following day, we joined a community reforestation project, planting saplings in a reserve supported by Leap. It was grounding, sweaty and satisfying. Another day, we worked with a local women's cooperative, making leather purses, bottling preserves and patching a leaking roof. These weren't token gestures. They were genuine exchanges – skill for skill, woman to woman. And somewhere in the doing, something shifted. No one cared what I did for a living or how put together I looked. I wasn't someone's mother, wife or boss. I was just Anastasia. Present, useful, connected. And that was enough. The women I travelled with each one had a story. Some raw, some still unfolding. At the end of each day, boots off and wine poured, we shared. We talked about midlife invisibility, about ageing bodies, about starting over. We laughed, we cried. And in that circle, we found space to be ourselves. From Barichara, we travelled north to Santa Marta and hiked into Tayrona National Park. Covered in sweat and mosquito bites but brimming with euphoria, I caught my reflection in a cracked jungle mirror. I looked real, alive, and I thought: 'She's still in there'. Later, we floated by canoe down a jungle river, then landed on the white sands of Buritaca Beach, where hammocks swung and cocktails waited. Our final stop was Cartagena, a vibrant, historic city full of colour, rhythm, and Afro-Caribbean flair. We wandered markets, danced in courtyards and dined under soft lighting. It was the perfect full-circle moment. This wasn't just a holiday. It was a new kind of travel. Companies like Responsible Travel offer volunteering opportunities; Flash Pack curates escapes for solo adventurers. But this proves that there was still a gap to be filled – a need for purpose-led journeys blending community contribution, cultural immersion and the power of team connection. It's part of a wider shift in how midlife women want to travel, too. According to recent reports from ABTA and Forbes, there's been a marked rise in women over 50 seeking transformative, values-driven experiences over traditional tourism. From solo walking retreats to eco-volunteering, the appetite is growing, but few providers beyond The Leap combine all three elements: challenge, culture and contribution. 'We're not trying to fix people,' says Whitehead. 'We just create the space, and give the nudge, to step out of the comfort zone. 'There's something magical that happens when women step away from the noise and into a space where they can contribute, connect and challenge themselves,' she adds. 'They stop shrinking. They expand. And suddenly, they're not just travelling – they're remembering who they are.' Kirsty, who joined The Leap in Peru, put it perfectly: 'I wanted to test my own resilience and was chuffed to see I could dig even deeper when it got tough.' Jo, another midlifer who travelled to Kenya, described it as 'a chance to shake myself awake again. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be brave and then, suddenly, there I was, knee-deep in a mangrove swamp, laughing and totally alive.' In a world obsessed with mentally checking out or physically looking good, this is simply about showing up. Whole, wild, weathered, and ready: when you're planting trees beside a stranger-turned-friend, no one cares that your hair's thinning or your tummy's bloating. You talk, you share and you laugh – sometimes harder than you have in years. I didn't come home with a tan or trinkets. I came home with clarity. About how I want to feel: curious, connected and brave. I want to say yes to things that scare me a little. I want to live from desire, not obligation. And I want more women to know: this kind of reawakening is possible. Not through a diet. Not through a silent retreat. But through messy, meaningful, purpose-driven adventure. Whitehead is right: purposeful travel is the missing piece in the midlife wellbeing conversation. We don't need to be hacked or fixed. We just need to live – fully, wildly, unapologetically. So, if you're feeling the itch, that low hum of longing, you don't have to ignore it. Sometimes, what you need is a plane ticket and a backpack – because, cliché though it sounds, remembering who you are often starts with getting a bit lost. Essentials Anastasia Baker, founder of Night Nannies, was a guest of The Leap, which offers the 10-day 'Midlife Leap to Colombia' trip from £3,250 per person, including accommodation, meals, guides, internal travel and project donations. International flights extra. Highlights include supporting community projects in Barichara, trekking through Tayrona National Park, and enjoying both beach time and cultural downtime in Cartagena. Departs November 9, 2025 and February 22, 2026.
