Conquering our fears

Yesterday morning was magical. Our son woke us up at 6 am thinking it was 7 am. Anxious to get the day started. And we were glad he did. The River was shrouded in a mythical mist. Swans waking up. Ducks all in a row. Quacking loudly and flapping their wings hard as they took off into the air. The splendour of waking up in the morning to  a picturesque day. Clear skies. Rowers slicing through the water. Silently but purposefully. Magical.
Our children rushing to get bread to feed the swans. One swan getting aggressive and pushing its head through the porthole to get more food. Hissing at us like we were holding out on it. Rather than being grateful for being fed.
My husband cooking a bacon breakfast for the children. Then the children off like rockets to run through the lawn. Then we were ready to tackle our first day on the Thames on our own. Nervous about handling the majestic Sancerre. Not wanting to hurt her or mar her beauty in any way.
We started off slowly and gently. My heart racing. My son and daughter  at the bow. My husband at the helm and I at the stern with him. Motoring along into the deep green of the overhanging trees. Ducks floating by. A motor yacht close behind our stern. Pressure mounting.
And then we reached our first lock, The Temple, with great trepidation as this was not a practice run. We were on our own to maneuver through the locks. It was the real thing. I threw out my lines but missed the bollard. So I had to pull them back in quickly so they would not get wrapped up in the propeller. I managed to get them back in and throw them again. This time bulleye. But there was the motor yacht behind us so the lockmaster told us we had to pull forward. He was there to guide us. Actually coming down to move my lines. His assistant going to help our son. Mission accomplished. The relief was welcomed. We even chatted with the people on the motor yacht behind. Like we were accomplished river people.
Coming out of that lock, we crossed under a lovely old wooden footbridge. The sun obscured by the overhanging trees feeling like we had taken a step back in time. Within 1000 feet we reached the second lock, The Hurley. This one much narrower than the Temple and at an angle. My husband cautiously manuevering us through. Two lady lock keepers this time came out to help us because the bollards were higher up.  Too high for our son. The lock keepers making us feel like we were a part of the river family. Welcoming us.
Everyone happy because of the sun and the light. Dry weather. No rain. The River less threatening and more settled than in the past few weeks. Coming out of the two locks relatively unscathed. Relaxed. Feeling a bit more confident  about our river legs. My husband handing the tiller over to our son. The two of them standing side by side - father and son- helming our beautiful Sancerre through the river. Our daughter at the bow waving to oncoming boats. Relaxing. Tranquil. Heavenly.
Then after about 45 minutes of calm motoring we came across our third and most challenging lock, Hambleden. It was very busy. Lots of boats behind us and a weir to the starboard side sending a great and unexpected current our way. When my husband tried to bring us alongside the dock to wait for the lock to open, the current took us in the opposite direction. My husband realised right away that he had to get our son to secure the bow while he jumped off to pull Sancerre back to the dock.  Which he did successfully. Gratitude spreading through me that I have an experienced boatsman for a husband.
When the locks opened, the passage was very narrow so my husband had to maneuver us in slowly and expertly. Again mission accomplished. Everyone relaxed instanteously. Boats in front of us. Beside us and behind us. Everyone chatting to each other. Giving us advice on where to go. The tension lessoning. The lock keeper wishing us well and telling us to enjoy ourselves.
As we motored out of the lock feeling really chuffed that we made it, my husband said the biggest thing we fear is the unknown and that's why he like to dive right in. Face the challenge head on then the unknown becomes the known and the fear passes over us and behind us. Allowing us to motor on.
We then lunched in the little village of Henley  on Thames. Busy with tourists. Everyone out in the sun. We leisurely strolled around the town. Then it was off to the Marsh lock which was a tricky one because the water comes in from both sides but we made it through no problem. Shiplake the next lock seeming like a dream after the Marsh lock.
We decided to push it and get all the way to Sonning, a place recommended because of its quaintness. Flushed with confidence we went for it. We got to the Sonning lock at 6.40 just as the lockmaster was about to shut down. He closed right after us telling us he needed to get home to a cool shower because of the unusual heat. We told him how grateful we were for opening for us. Complimenting him on his beautiful hollyhocks.
We thought we had passed our hurdles for the day and were on the home stretch for the night. But when we reached the bridge before Sonning we faced another challenge.  Strong currents and another bridge to the right which was not on the map so we were not sure which way to go. So my husband slowed down and the current started to push us into the brick bridge. Once again my husband tamed the Sancerre and lead us expertly through the bridge. His palms sweating and me giving a silent thanks to the Universe for helping us.
We moored alongside the banks just outside the village of Sonning. Then walked along the foot path of the Thames to have dinner at The Bull Inn pub which was featured in the famous book written by Jerome K. Jerome,  Three Men in A Boat. And it was right next to the home of Jimmy Page from the rock band Led Zepplin. Unfortunately he did not come out to greet us. He obviously didn't know we were in town. A shame really. But nonetheless a great meal in a picturesque setting.
What a fabulous day. Who could ask for anything more. Our children away from televisons. Away from computers. Just being. All of us out being serenaded by the gentle sound of Sancerre's engine and the call of nature.
My husband commenting this is why they say England is a beautiful country as we motored by weeping willows looking like they could engulf us. Cooper beeches contrasting against the green. Handsome and stately homes scattered across the banks with hanging baskets bursting with multicoloured flowers. If only the weather would stay like this forever he mused.
But then the scenery would not be as lush. Nor as beautiful if the weather remained dry. England is beautiful because of the rain. It's just we don't appreciate it until the rain has passed. And we happened to be given the gift of the dry after the rain. To appreciate and savour and see England at her best from a peaceful and serene vantage point - the stern and bow of the Sancerre. And for these blessings I am truly grateful.