The Intrepid Harvey I will begin at the beginning where most stories start. Our little adventure has been both illuminating and brilliant. Not in the way torches shine but how a long awaited holiday can enlighten and enrich. We had prepared a finely-tuned itinerary with our highly experienced travelling companions, Wayne and Doranne and it seemed fit for neophytes such as us to follow their lead. When we first met Harvey, we were shocked at his insolence and ill-bred manner but he soon became a useful distraction and example of what not to do as we motored our way down the Llangollen Canal. On that first day, an engineer met us aboard Gray’s Lark, an indestructible 68 foot, iron cigar that we naively assumed could be easily navigated along a thin, meandering thread of murky water. Harvey received his canal boat instructions when we did but he already seemed an expert at navigating this sort of craft, his vessel, Black Headed Gull. We were moored alongside each other, several cigars deep, jutting out from the marina and as we were shown how to open the engine hatch and perform rudimentary adjustments and maintenance, Harvey took his first swig. That is only a fleeting image now but thinking back I did think it odd, during this critical, pre-voyage tutorial. Harvey seemed vastly more focused on hefting a glass. We lumbered off from the charming town of Whitchurch, once called the ‘most handsome town in North Shropshire, to Llangollen, a quaint, gray-slated Welsh town. Fishtailing along at a snail’s pace, I am struck with the beauty of these ancient hills. Hedgerows dissect soft, green meadows and contrasting red-bricked homes appear around each bend. As when one begins to drift into sleep I began to hear faint whispers. Generations of stories, both happy and tragic are cast towards me as if dancing in the breeze. And I begin to listen.Jauntlet.comhttps://jauntlet.com/