'Amfora' heading towards Garstang.

Freeman 26 'Amfora' Lancaster Canal, originally uploaded by Bay Photographic.

I took a couple of pictures of other people's boats last weekend, and had the pleasant task of giving the owners a print of the photographs this afternoon at the marina. After their initial, and completely understandable, hesitation, while I reassured them that I was not going to start asking for money like a door to door aerial photograph salesman, they all seemed genuinely pleased. I explained that it is surprisingly difficult to take a photograph of your own boat in motion, as you tend, by definition to be on board when it is moving. I always try to be anyway. I suppose I was hoping that one day somebody might take a photo of me as I go past, an ambition I have yet to achieve.
I once suggested to Mrs. Kirk that she could photograph me if I set her adrift with a camera in a rowing boat on Windermere while I sailed my Beneteau 'Annapolis' up and down, but she was shockingly unenthusiastic about the idea for some reason.
A friend at the marina took a photograph of me on the canal in 'Henry' a couple of weeks ago, but he was driving his own boat at the time and since he hasn't mentioned it, I suspect the result may have suffered from the inevitable division of attention that was involved. In any event, I haven't asked...
So if you see a fat bloke (although I have just joined a gym, so it is only a matter of time before I am size zero) pointing a camera at your boat, smile and wave. You may well get to see the result.

Multitasking

Heading North on the Lancaster Canal, originally uploaded by Bay Photographic.

This is the view through Henry's windscreen as I headed North from Garstang yesterday morning. I took the picture while I was driving the boat, and this amazing feat of Norman 23 control was only possible by virtue of Henry's new steering characteristics. If I had tried this a few weeks ago the boat would have doubtless struck the moored boat, the bridge and grounded itself in the nearest field the instant I reached for the camera. But yesterday I could even take my eye off the canal for long enough to change the shooting menu on the camera to Program.
Clearly, taking photographs while you drive, even at 3 mph, is not recommended, and I am sure that Brussells will soon issue an edict banning such a dangerous activity on the grounds of Health and Safety.
In the meantime I am just enjoying the sensation of steering a boat without having to concentrate like a Tornado pilot.

Visible Overheads

The Marina, in the afternoon sun, originally uploaded by Bay Photographic.

Over the course of my boating 'career' I have owned or a great many examples of different categories and types. Power and sail, inboard and outboard, narrowboat and widebeam, steel and GRP, planing and displacement, expensive and, er...very expensive.
Despite this variety, I have always considered two central characteristics to be absolutely crucial.
Dry inside (as opposed to wet), and standing headroom (rather than the eponymous 'sitting' variety.
Henry is dry as a bone inside. The bilges have dust in them, and the space under the cockpit floor could be used for dehydrating herring (if that floats your bag).
Some of my boats have been less obliging in this area. Stargazer had a leak over the guest bunk in the aft cabin that dripped persistently for five years, through two major refits, six tubes of silicone and two mothers in law.
Annapolis let water in through the main hatch, but only in a northerly wind, and I had a Chris Craft that filled to the brim with rain water when I left it under a tree for three months in Bowness.
But I got them all dry in the end.
Headroom, however, is a different matter. I am not that tall, my growth hormones stopped working about an inch and a half short of the magic 'six foot', but I have a very tricky spine that complains with all its might if I have to stoop. The inch difference between the headroom inside a Freeman and that in a Norman can ruin my weekend more effectively than ten pints and a dodgy curry, so the fact that Henry has a hardtop over the cockpit is a blessing. I can stand up comfortably next to the wheel, move around without ducking for bolt heads and more importantly, get on board without having to dive through a triangular opening between two canopy bars like a pub team goalkeeper whose team is losing 12-nil in extra time.
I know that I can't fold it flat on a sunny day and lounge around in open topped luxury, but that is a small price to pay, especially in the most rain soaked summer since 1735.