Meet the veterans finding community and purpose on Britain's canals: 'I don't merely exist anymore'

Just over 12 months ago, Jay Saunders couldn’t make eye contact. Today, he’s reflecting on a five-week stint performing stand-up comedy at the Edinburgh Fringe. The turning point wasn’t a prescription or a council flat – it was a 41ft narrowboat, Stingray. 

“Being on the boat has helped me heal and handle my PTSD,” he says. “You rapidly find your brain slows down to the speed of the canal.” 

Jay is one of a growing number of former service personnel finding calm, community and purpose on Britain’s waterways thanks to Forces Veterans Afloat (FVA) – a charity that sources, refurbishes and loans donated narrowboats to veterans experiencing homelessness or instability.

Based on the Derbyshire-Nottinghamshire border, FVA’s current fleet of 10 boats can navigate more than 2,000 miles of canals, turning the UK’s underappreciated waterways into a refuge for those struggling to find their footing on land. Veterans can access a fully equipped narrowboat for up to two years only through referral from a recognised forces support charity. FVA provides the boats and boating expertise, while the veterans remain under the charity’s care for support. 

Get the latest news and insight into how the Big Issue magazine is made by signing up for the Inside Big Issue newsletter

“We rebuild the boats, but the boats rebuild lives,” says Lizzie Lane, founder and chair of trustees at FVA. Lizzie, herself part of the boating community, says the idea began when she saw ex-service personnel sleeping rough beside canals. “We were horrified,” she recalls. “How could we swan about in our nice boats and ignore those who had nothing but a bridge to shelter under?” 

Each donated boat to FVA is transformed by a small army of volunteers – welders, engineers, surveyors, marina owners – into a safe, self-contained home, some adapted with enclosed bedroom spaces for veterans managing complex PTSD. They are rebuilt to be practical and safe – a home that veterans can manage and make their own. 

Read more:

• Starmer slams false claim veterans are being evicted to house asylum seekers: ‘Conspiracy nonsense’
• I became an actor after 30 years as a Royal Marine. Here’s what people need to know about veterans
• A false claim about homeless veterans and asylum seekers sparked outrage. Here’s the reality

‘There’s such pleasure in those tiny moments of routine’ 

For Jay, the unhurried rhythms of canal life have been transformative. “The world wants you to operate at 300 miles an hour,” he says. “But when you’re on a narrowboat, you can only travel at four.” 

Jay is a “continuous cruiser”, moving from one mooring to the next every fortnight. “The constant planning – finding water, fuel, moorings – makes isolation impossible. And then there’s the magic of what you see: places nature has reclaimed.” 

As any boater will acknowledge, navigating the waterways is far easier if you are moderately fit and agile – operating locks as a single-hander, climbing lock ladders, jumping ashore in strong winds. “This isn’t a life for everybody,” Jay says. But that enforced movement, he says, keeps him grounded.  

“By day seven in one spot, I start to feel my PTSD symptoms sneaking back in. I relish the move days. There’s such pleasure in those tiny moments of routine.” 

Many veterans describe the sense of camaraderie among boaters as the closest thing they’ve found to military brotherhood. “We all understand the challenges of living on the canal,” Jay says. “It’s a
family. Whether you want one or not, you end up with one.” 

This mirrors what Penny, who recently donated her narrowboat Delilah to FVA, discovered during her time on the waterways. “We met such lovely people on the canals,” she says. “They selflessly offered help without wanting anything in return.” 

After a decade in their narrowboat, Penny and her husband Philip recognised that they could no longer manage it, so they decided to put it to good use. Penny says what FVA offers isn’t charity, but empowerment. “Giving someone a tool is so much better than giving money.” 

‘It’s about having a vocation again’  

For Daz, a veteran preparing to move aboard the narrowboat Flossie Will’um this December, the FVA project offers more than just a roof – it’s a way to rebuild on his own terms. 

“The waiting itself has given me something to focus on, something to work towards,” he says. 

After years of bureaucratic delays, housing struggles and false starts, he says the clarity of canal life feels almost medicinal. “There’s no paperwork on the towpath,” he laughs. “You either make it work, or you don’t.” 

He has plans to learn traditional canal boat painting, and eventually to teach others. “I want to improve lives through art and teaching,” he says. “It’s about having a vocation again.”  

For Daz, restoration itself is a metaphor. “Whether furniture or a boat, you start by sanding back to the truth,” he says. “See the cracks, fill them, paint again. That’s my life – restoring it piece by piece.” 

For him, moving onto the waterways isn’t just about finding a home – it’s about laying foundations upon which he can build something more permanent. The boat also represents a project. “It’s going to be an adventure,” he says. “Not just surviving, but actually engaging with something. For years, I’ve felt voiceless, like decisions were being made about me, not with me,” he says.  

That sense of agency has helped him stay steady during the long wait. He often quotes Julian of Norwich – “All shall be well” – when the red tape drags on, seeing it as a reminder that patience is part of the repair. In December, his boat will become the place where he can begin rebuilding his life on his own terms. 

‘I don’t merely exist any more’ 

Every November, Remembrance Day brings pride for some veterans, pain for others. For many, the ceremonies and parades are a stark reminder of comrades lost and lives upended by service. For veterans like Jay, who live with psychological trauma, it can be a particularly heavy time, when the weight of their experiences is most palpable. 

“As well as having PTSD, I also have moral injury syndrome,” he says. “It makes me hate myself and think I don’t deserve any good in the world.”  

But his boat has offered something traditional support couldn’t. Since he moved in, he’s learned to find the light (and humour) in the dark, and recently performed 48 shows at the Edinburgh Fringe.  

“When I stand on stage and make an audience laugh about trauma, I start to feel some semblance of being a decent human being again,” he says. “I don’t merely exist any more,” he says. “I’ve actually started living.” 

Veterans who lose their footing in civilian life often face isolation and uncertainty. Lizzie says what motivates her most is simply wanting to help those in need.  

“Without the stability of Forces life, the world can be bewildering. You miss the community you belonged to. Boaters are an amazing community. They are there for each other, just like your brother or sister in the
military was.” 

Penny echoes this. “The canals have always been a place of community. That’s what makes FVA so special. Everyone deserves the chance to rebuild.” 

In 2026, FVA plans to open its first dedicated wharf on the Erewash Canal – a permanent base for its boats, volunteers and training. Lizzie says it will be “a place not just to fix boats, but to anchor people”. 

For veterans like Jay, and for those like Daz preparing to take to the water, each lock and stretch of canal represents a rhythm they can choose and manage themselves – a pace that helps them take ownership of their lives, one mooring and mile at a time. 

Do you have a story to tell or opinions to share about this? Get in touch and tell us more. 

Change a vendor’s life this Christmas.

Buy from your local Big Issue vendor every week – or support online with a vendor support kit or a subscription – and help people work their way out of poverty with dignity.