On the morning of December 22, 2025, the tranquil waterways of Shropshire were shattered by a dramatic and unexpected disaster. A giant hole, the result of an embankment collapse, suddenly opened on the Llangollen Canal near Whitchurch, unleashing a torrent of water and leaving dozens of people stranded just days before Christmas. What began as a peaceful winter for the canal’s liveaboard community quickly turned into a scramble for safety, shelter, and answers.
According to BBC reporting, the collapse was initially thought to be a sinkhole, but engineers soon determined it was a failure of the canal’s embankment. The breach caused a deep trench to form, swallowing two boats and leaving several others marooned on a dry canal bed. The once-busy waterway, which threads through the heart of rural Shropshire, was transformed overnight into a scene of chaos and distress. Water drained from a 1.6-kilometer stretch between Whitchurch and Grindley Brook, exposing the vulnerability of the 200-year-old canal infrastructure.
The incident unfolded in the early hours. Geoff and Pamela Poole, a retired couple from the United States who had recently embarked on their dream of living aboard a narrowboat, were jolted awake at 4:20 a.m. by frantic banging on their door. "The whole boat was listing and everything had fallen," Mrs. Poole recalled to BBC reporters. Just hours before, she had been watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas—now, her Christmas tree lay toppled with broken ornaments scattered across the floor. The Pooles, who bought their boat in May and had only been living aboard for two and a half months, found themselves packing essentials into bags and preparing to leave behind their floating home, unsure when—or if—they could return.
"That's the end of our plans for the winter," Mr. Poole lamented. The couple, who had left their children in the U.S. to start a new chapter in the UK, now faced spending Christmas in a hotel, their dreams of a cozy holiday on the water dashed. "You have these big dreams of our first Christmas on the boat," Mrs. Poole said, her voice tinged with disappointment. "We'll have next year." Their biggest worry, she added, was not knowing when they would be able to move back or resume their journey. "When we started evacuating, we literally thought it could be six months to a year, because that's what happened at the Bridgewater," she said, referencing a similar canal disaster in recent memory.
The Pooles were not alone in their plight. Phil Johnson, originally from East Yorkshire, had also been living aboard his boat since May. He was planning to travel home for Christmas but quickly realized he could not leave his vessel, which housed all his belongings and was now precariously positioned. "Basically all my personal belongings are on that boat—everything that I own is on that boat," Johnson told the BBC. Fortunately, friends from Oxford offered him keys to a flat in Whitchurch, providing a temporary refuge. He would spend Christmas with friends in town, but the sense of disruption was palpable. "The boating community, any disaster like this, everybody's helping each other," he noted, echoing the camaraderie that often defines life on the canals.
For others, the experience was even more harrowing. Paul Stowe, whose narrowboat Pacemaker was left teetering on the edge of the newly formed hole, escaped barefoot with his wife, son, and two cats at around 4:10 a.m. "I can't believe everyone got off the three boats with our lives intact to be honest, and that's pure luck," Stowe shared. The family, left with only the clothes on their backs and new shoes from a local supermarket, found temporary accommodation thanks to the local council and a canal boat company called the Cheshire Cat. Stowe, whose birthday fell on Christmas Day, expressed deep uncertainty about his future on the water. "I'm not sure I'll ever moor in this area again, I'm not sure I'll ever moor on an embankment again," he admitted. "I'll be honest with you, it's very debatable [that] I'll ever want to go on a boat again."
As the drama unfolded, the response from local authorities and the boating community was swift. Shropshire Fire and Rescue Service supported about 15 people, ensuring that no injuries were reported despite the scale of the disaster. Norbury Wharf and other local businesses offered boats free of charge for emergency accommodation, demonstrating the resilience and generosity that often surfaces in moments of crisis.
The Canal and River Trust (CRT), the charity responsible for maintaining the UK’s waterways, moved quickly to assess the damage and provide support. Richard Preston, the CRT’s regional operations manager for the West Midlands, told BBC Radio Shropshire that initial assessments could take days or even weeks, with full reconstruction likely to stretch into several months. "We need to try and get water back into at least some section of that canal so that we can refloat those boats," Preston explained. In addition to the two boats at the bottom of the trench and two more at the edge, six further north were also listing dangerously. The CRT’s immediate priorities were recovering the stricken boats and making the area safe. A dam was being constructed at the site to withhold water and prevent further damage.
Campbell Robb, the CRT’s chief executive, acknowledged the severity of the incident and pledged to learn from it. "We’ll learn lots of lessons from what happened," he assured. Robb emphasized the organization’s commitment to routine inspections and monitoring, but conceded that more might need to be done. "We've also got a whole community of boaters and people who live around and on canals. They get in touch with us regularly... If they get any concerns, they should get in touch with us. We'll... make sure that we try and get out and check it."
For many liveaboards, the canal is more than just a waterway—it’s home. Chris, who lives at Grindley Brook Marina, described waking up at 5:00 a.m. to find her boat listing heavily. "I haven't done any [Christmas] food shopping because I can't think about it at the minute, I just want to get the boat right," she said. "Where do you go? This is home." The remaining water in the marina was so shallow it could no longer float a boat, compounding the sense of loss and uncertainty.
As the days ticked closer to Christmas, the mood along the canal was somber but not defeated. The disaster has left a mark on the tight-knit community, but also revealed its strength. Offers of shelter, hot meals, and moral support have flowed as freely as the water that once filled the canal. The long road to recovery will require patience, resources, and perhaps a little luck. But if there’s one thing the events of December 22 have shown, it’s that even in the face of upheaval, the spirit of the canals endures.
