Hi All,
Haven't been able to persuade anyone else to write for now so you're stuck with me...
Very quickly, we spent some time at the course yesterday to see some finals. We were pleased to see that the London A crew that conquered us won the final easily in good conditions in a time of 6:51. So we were very competitive in the end.
Shane, Hatsy and myself are off to the airport now, Sam and Rad are staying to help the farmers today. We've had a fantastic time and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I'm sure one of the others will give a full run-down on the last couple of days when they get some time, it should make entertaining reading.
Thanks again to everyone who has supported us during the last couple of weeks, your messages have been great and kept us all in touch with home.
Cheers, Drew
Sunday, 3 July 2011
Saturday, 2 July 2011
Semi-Final and out...
Hi All,
Well, we've had a pretty crazy Sunday. We prepared to race at 2pm, did our warm-up, hit the water, pushed off, rowed about 10 strokes then got pulled up by the stewards. London had hit a drunken canoeist and lost part of their bow. Apparently, he then tried to board them. Unsurprisingly, they weren't particularly happy. They were unable to repair their boat, so requested time to re-rig another. Hence the race was delayed til 7pm.
We headed back to the farm, ate, slept and did it all over again, hitting the water for real this time at 6:30pm. Warm-up went well, and we settled onto the blocks in good order. For once our start was fantastic, only problem was we were up against a genuinely quick crew this time and they led us by half a length at the top of the island and nearly a length by the Barrier. Aware of our strengths, London then very sensibly pushed away from the Barrier to hold nearly 2 lengths by Fawley (almost halfway). From there they were able to absorb our mid-race surge and dominate the final 500m. They did this, running out winners by 2 lengths in a time of 6:56.
It would be nice to have an excuse, but we don't, London were simply a better crew. We had a good row, pretty clean, start was cracking, we hit good rhythm through the middle, rate stayed 35+ for the whole distance as per plan, we wound up as much as we could over the last 400, but they were able to ride every punch we threw. So, all credit to them.
We've just got home after de-rigging, packing oars and a couple of pints and dinner in town. The guys are naturally disappointed, but realistic, we met a good crew on a good day. Will post more later - by weight of request, Hatsy will be back! That's it for me for now.
Cheers, Drew
Well, we've had a pretty crazy Sunday. We prepared to race at 2pm, did our warm-up, hit the water, pushed off, rowed about 10 strokes then got pulled up by the stewards. London had hit a drunken canoeist and lost part of their bow. Apparently, he then tried to board them. Unsurprisingly, they weren't particularly happy. They were unable to repair their boat, so requested time to re-rig another. Hence the race was delayed til 7pm.
We headed back to the farm, ate, slept and did it all over again, hitting the water for real this time at 6:30pm. Warm-up went well, and we settled onto the blocks in good order. For once our start was fantastic, only problem was we were up against a genuinely quick crew this time and they led us by half a length at the top of the island and nearly a length by the Barrier. Aware of our strengths, London then very sensibly pushed away from the Barrier to hold nearly 2 lengths by Fawley (almost halfway). From there they were able to absorb our mid-race surge and dominate the final 500m. They did this, running out winners by 2 lengths in a time of 6:56.
It would be nice to have an excuse, but we don't, London were simply a better crew. We had a good row, pretty clean, start was cracking, we hit good rhythm through the middle, rate stayed 35+ for the whole distance as per plan, we wound up as much as we could over the last 400, but they were able to ride every punch we threw. So, all credit to them.
We've just got home after de-rigging, packing oars and a couple of pints and dinner in town. The guys are naturally disappointed, but realistic, we met a good crew on a good day. Will post more later - by weight of request, Hatsy will be back! That's it for me for now.
Cheers, Drew
Delayed
Hi All,
Apologies to anyone who stayed up to listen to the semi-final, London had a minor accident en route to the start and lost their bow ball and part of their bow. The stewards have delayed the race until 7pm GMT to allow them to make repairs. So we are back at the farm to eat and rest up. Race will be at 4am EST, so we'll post the result before you all get up on Sunday.
Cheers, Drew
Apologies to anyone who stayed up to listen to the semi-final, London had a minor accident en route to the start and lost their bow ball and part of their bow. The stewards have delayed the race until 7pm GMT to allow them to make repairs. So we are back at the farm to eat and rest up. Race will be at 4am EST, so we'll post the result before you all get up on Sunday.
Cheers, Drew
Friday, 1 July 2011
Race #3
Hi All,
Below is Shane's view on today's race. It seems most of you already know the result - thanks for all your messages of encouragement, we are overwhelmed by the support. As Shane notes below, tomorrow is the big test, London A are the form crew of the event and we will have our work seriously cut out. But at Henley, anything can happen and we'll be making sure nothing is left on the water. Drew
1st July
Today’s race pretty much went as well as it could. Our opposition London C managed to oust out Lea and Thames Tradesmen RC in earlier rounds. We managed to discover that London C were similar in speed to the Elizabethan crew we raced yesterday. Essentially every crew that you beat feels at least some loyalty or at least obligation to pass on their best wishes and perhaps a bit of local knowledge regarding what they know of the next crew. London received allot of vocal support from the bank, it wasn’t until we reached the stewards enclosure that the raucous football (soccer) styled encouragement turned into polite clapping.
This time we started on the opposite side to the previous 2 races.
Decorum and tradition dictates that the lanes are called Berks (Berkshire) and Bucks (Buckinghamshire) but basically I can’t be bothered committing either to memory when perfectly clear instructions such as north, south, left and right are more than adequate. When I ask Drew what side are we racing on today he will often answer either Berks or Bucks, when asked for further elaboration he refuses to do so. So this time we were on the other side to normal (left) which initially wasn’t a problem until we passed Temple Island. Temple Island is called so because it is an Island with a temple (church like thing) on it. Amazing Ha’ and yea when I often ask Drew why it is called Temple Island he again refuses to elaborate. This of course often happens straight after I’ve asked him what lane we are racing in. But to me (stroke seat) Temple Island is something you pass after 30 or so strokes after the start. To Drew it is a time when you start paying attention to the direction of boat travel in order to miss the big wooden boom and bollard things that hold in place said ‘wooden boom’. Just before we hit the big wooden boom like thingy I lightened off my stroke, Conrad fortunately stoped rowing, Sam managed to pull in his oar and Drew smashed his into the big wooden bollard. We probably only lost a couple of strokes but fortunately didn’t lose the lead. Although we did damage one oar.
The rest of the race proceeded fairly comfortably. The boat travelled straight and we let the rating drop to 30 spm over the last half of the race. Our opposition were congratulatory and wished us, ‘but not too much’ luck since we are racing team mates ‘London A’ in our next race. During the race Mum (riding in the umpires launch) was asked by the London coach what our average ergo scores were. Mum, having no idea what an ergo is stated that we average around 40 or so 41, 38, 39 etc. After a couple of confused moments and further requests for clarification in dawned on the London coach (Richard) that she was quoting our ages and was shocked into the realization that we are a masters crew.
Tomorrow we race the cream of the London RC Wyfold contingent. Due to a freak occurrence of the draw we’ve managed to be selected in the same side as all 3 London RC crews. Like Sam said ‘we have to commit total London RC genocide’ to get through to the final, fortunately we’ve already raced the London B and C crews. Unfortunately since London A have already beaten all current opposition this year left in the competition, they are probably the crew to beat. Today they put on a show by setting one of the fastest times (6.47) for a 4- today, this time is within a few seconds of the international crews. They came came down the course approximately 20 seconds faster than us. Could we have gone 20 secs faster than we did today if really pushed? Perhaps not, but the obvious question is why did they feel the need to demonstrate such an obvious display of chest beating when they, also not pushed, had no need to waste energy in doing so. A crew totally confident in their ability would not have acted in such a way. Also, since we are the only crew they have not raced and had the measure of this season we can only conclude that the message was intended entirely for us. Everyone knows they have considerable speed, everyone knows they are hungry after the same crew was beaten over the closing stages of the Wyfold last year. But could they be (even ever so slightly) lacking in confidence. Could the fact that they know nothing about us, have never raced us be enough to bring some of this lack of confidence to the surface when it really counts? Within 24hours we all know!
Shane.
Note: I probably should have noted that, ironically after yesterday's blog, I did in fact hit a timber bollard during today's race, exactly where I have been fearful of doing so ever since I started steering this course 2 weeks ago. I can only guess that the Race Radio did not mention it, because none of you have given me any grief! To my (and the crew's) great good fortune, I was already turning back to the centre when we struck, it was only my oar, and I was almost at the catch, so was able to absorb most of the shock. Rad and Shane were right on to it and dropped that stroke so I wasn't pulled further into the booms. Sam pulled his blade in the required 3 inches and missed the bollard I hit. It all seemed to take for ever and my god was it loud, but watching the video later, we hardly seem to miss a beat. Again, the great irony was that other than that one near disastrous incident, I steered my best course of the regatta. Of course. Jeff, damage to the oar is minor (promise) and is being fixed overnight by the Croker guy on site. With half an ounce of luck, it'll be ready to go by 2pm tomorrow!
Which is the next point - tomorrow's race is against London A crew at 2:00pm GMT or 11:00pm EST, probably just after the Geelong finish smacking Essendon all around the park! Go Cats! And go us.
Cheers, Drew
Thursday, 30 June 2011
Next race
Just quickly - we race tomorrow (Friday) against London C at 9:35am GMT, or 6:35pm EST. Much more civilized time for you guys. According to Conrads research, these guys have a strong finishing burst which we'll be looking for. Cheers, Drew
Race #2
Hi all,
As some of you may be aware, we had another win this afternoon, this time against the Elizabethan Boat Club. We had a slightly scrambled start, but still had about 3/4 of a length lead by the Barrier, which turned into 3 lengths by Fawley, at which point we essentially switched off and paddled home, gradually reducing the rate to about 28 and taking the win by about 1 and 3/4 lengths in a time of 7:20 which means basically nothing. Tomorrow we meet another London crew, London 'C' this time who have won through the top eighth of the draw. Should we beat them, it is a likely semi-final match up with the London A crew who are the outright favourites. Deja vu anyone?
Well, that's the basic equation for those of you who are just looking for raw info. Anyone who can be bothered is welcome to read on, I've realised that we haven't said much this year about what it is actually like to race at Henley from a pure rowing perspective, so, using today as an example (because it's fresh in my mind), I'll do my best to give you a 'word picture' now. Some of it is common to all regattas and most of you will recognise and identify with those bits. Some is purely Henley - I'll try to convey as well as I can...
Our race today is at 2:45pm, the morning is spent sleeping late and a leisurely breakfast, by 10am everyone is engaged in their usual pre-race routine. Hatsy is working whilst simultaneously organising the day's guest list - he controls all our official contact with the regatta, distributes passes to those supporters who are in town and organises who gets to go with him on the umpires boat - a very powerful and influential figure indeed! Sam is wandering, eating, stretching, playing games on his phone, productively wasting time. Conrad hangs in the kitchen, makes a coffee, plays with the dog, peruses some cows, makes some more coffee. Shane and I both walk, independently, he to get himself focused on rhythm and drive he needs to deliver today, me to stress quietly over steering.
By 11am, it's 8pm in Australia, so the daily phone calls to home are made and then it's time to get ready to go. There is a flurry of zooties and socks, everybody steals back off Shane what he's managed to 'acquire' in the last 24 hours, Hatsy is suited up and we hit the road. It's only 10minutes into Henley, but we hit walking pace traffic and the last kilometer takes 25minutes. Hatsy is late to meet his godparents, so he takes to the pavement. The rest of us park with no dramas and make our way across the grassy lawns, now covered with parked cars, marquees, lawn chairs, blankets, picnics and lots and lots of Pimms. The gathered throngs are excited, happy, halfway cut and ever so polite as we pick our way through to the boat tent.
We converge at the boat, give it a quick once over, then your time is your own for the next 90min before we reconvene for the warm-up. Conrad disappears to stretch and cogitate, he likes to be alone during this period. Shane is off on his usual walk to the start line, he likes to check conditions at every point on the course. I head for the grandstand in the regatta enclosure where I can sit and watch the world go by for a while. Sam has a stretch, then joins me and we spend an hour or so dissecting the abilities of the various crews out training in the lunch interval. It's a good time to soak up the atmosphere, basically it's like the Melbourne Cup carnival, probably Stakes day before it starts to get messy. From the top of the stand here, I can see maybe 10,000 people, there would be 3 or 4 times that spread along the river today.
1:45pm and we meet back at the boat, head for the changerooms, check our bags in and hit the ergs. There is no point trying to warm up on the water, it's chaos out there, we need to be warm before the boat gets wet. Shane is first away, he needs 20min+ to get the 41 year old bones warmed up. Rad comes and goes 2 or 3 times, getting that extra stretching inbetween. I only need maybe 10min at low intensity to get a sweat up, Sam likes to churn along a bit faster, but for not as long. 2:10 and we are back at the boat. John O'Dowd and his wife Katherine are there and wish us luck. John gets the job of holding our bag tickets while we race. The oars are down, the boat comes off the rack at 2:15.
There are 6 diagonally oriented pontoons poking out into the river directly outside the boat tent, we walk straight out onto the first and place the boat on the downstream side. Rad and Sam hold, Shane and I collect oars. To do this we weave between crowds of rowers, coxes, coaches, well-wishers and the general public wandering past to have a close look at "the entertainment" as we prepare to push-off. Oars in, Rad and Shane push off and my nightmare begins.
It's almost impossible to describe the next 15 or so minutes. The basic mechanics are simple. I need to head up about 500m on the north side of the course, then cross over, travel another 1000m on the south, cross back to the north and continue to the start. Simple, right? Not even.
"Number off from the stern", I call. "Stroke", "3", "2", I get in reply, so far, so good. "Sit forward", I say, then take a look behind me. 2 eights have just finished a race and are paddling slowly my way on the bowside, should be able to cross in front of them, a 30 foot cruiser is chugging ever closer on the strokeside, still should be ok... "Attention, row", we shoot away from the landing and I look again. "Shit!", "Easy! Check it!" 3 men in a boat (I kid you not) have punted out from behind the cruiser and are now 10 feet off my bow. "Rad, touch it around", I can still make it before the cruiser crushes my stern, but those eights are getting closer. "From the back, row". We make another 3 strokes, "Easy! Check hard bowside!" One eight just misses the stern, a speedboat has chosen this moment to back out of it's berth about 3 feet from Conrads blade, that cruiser is really close now. A gap opens up briefly, "Sit forward, row!" The boat leaps for the gap and I just squeeze through between the judges stand and a canal boat steaming upstream. I relax momentarily, then a yelp of surprise comes from over my right shoulder. You guessed it, there is a canoe hiding behind the judges stand with a lady in a lovely dress reclining in the bow - her considerate boyfriend/husband/significant other has seen the same gap I did and we're about to fight over it. She has seen me, he hasn't. I've got about 400kgs with a sharp point moving at 15kph, he's got 60kg of very anxious female dead in the water about 15 feet from my pointy bit. "Crap! Check it hard, all crew!" He's finally seen me, I turn to enquire as to his intentions, he sees the look on my face and retreats rapidly back from whence he came, much to his lady's relief.
No kidding, this continues for the next 400m through the most amazing slop, chop and mayhem you'd ever want to see. On the weekend, you can''t even negotiate this section, competing crews actually row up the course proper for the first section. We finally cross to the south side where there are thankfully hardly any pleasure craft. We are now however under the eyes of the enormous crowds on the South bank and the noise is constant. The crew relaxes and starts to work into the warm-up, the boat starts to send and travel, steering is much easier. We get the occasional "Go, Power House" from the bank, some Aussie accents, but interestingly, plenty of British ones too. We do a 10 stroke surge to wake up a bit, we fluff a couple of finishes but the boat feels bright in the water. Shane turns his head and yells "Thirty-five", the stroke-coach attached to his foot plate giving him instant feedback. That's good for a first piece, I'm happier now as we head back to the north side of the course - there are no marshalls telling you when you can cross the course, you make your own decisions and are trusted to do so, but get in the way of a race...
Up here closer to the start the crowd is thinner, as are the pleasure boats. We are now in the warm-up area which takes us around the island. We do another 15 stroke surge, "36", Shane calls as we drop back, this is good, the boat is feeling nice, that rate was achieved with little effort and the rhythm is good. It's 2:33 as we pass the start blocks, time enough for another km of paddling, which we do beyond the start, coming back up directly behind the blocks. I stop the crew about 200m short and we follow the standard routine, check the gate and footstretcher, empty waterbottles (and other things...). "Sit forward, 5 stroke start." I call "Go", and the boat jumps like it's been shot. "41" says Shane, and we're ready.
Conrad and I gently ease the boat forward past the 'stake-boats' or starting pontoons. There is only just enough room between pontoon and bank to sneak through. We are on the Berkshire station today, so we are right underneath the crowd on the south bank. The Elizabethans are already on station, they look tall and competent, but opposition crews always do to me at this time. I search for a weakness as is my want at these times. I know I shouldn't but I can't help it. I concentrate on the bowman, my opposite number, he looks strong, but I spot a tiny bit of gut as he sits back that makes me feel better. This takes all of 2 seconds and I refocus on the task at hand.
Shane and Sam back the boat down to the holder and I can feel him grab the stern. Shane yells "Contact", and I concentrate on getting a line. The first 300m of the course is buoyed on both sides, but there is nothing to separate the crews. You have to thread an imaginary line down the centre of the course and keep to your side of it, whilst keeping off the buoys as well. Hitting a buoy is not a big deal, but in 300m, those buoys turn into timber posts about 6 inches square and this one fact sits in the back of my mind like a lead weight.
While he's sitting forward at the catch, I can just see past Rad's left ear to the 'tell-tales' behind the stake-boat which I can use to get a line. Now it's just a light touch from Rad or me to keep a line, we're protected from the wind here. The umpires boat pulls in, it's about 40 feet long and powered by what sounds like a low revving diesel, big anyway. Standing up front is the umpire, resplendent in his Henley blazer and boater hat, a white and red flag in hand. Sitting behind him, I can see Hatsy's dark curls and Shane's mum Amy sitting quietly - no barracking, cheering or signalling to the crew is allowed from the umpires boat. Nevertheless, Hatsy inclines his head ever so slightly to the crew and I know he's happy that all is good. On the bank I can see Simon, Lindy and Tora who have come down to watch us race, an unknown individual just behind us says quietly, "C'mon House" in an Aussie accent, still don't know who.
The umpire signals his driver forward and announces, "Power House. Elizabethans. When I see that you are both straight and ready, I shall start you like this... Attention (red flag goes up), Go! (Red flag goes down). Get ready please". There is a pregnant pause, I sit still, Rad has brought me beautifully straight, now if he'd just move his bloody head an inch to the right... "Attention.... Go!" The flag drops and both boats leap away.
This is where I'm flying blind and it scares the crap out of me. I've now lost the tell-tales behind Rad's head and there are not enough buoys past yet to get a line from them. I take a quick glance over my right shoulder, but the rating has just touched 47 and I've got bugger all time to get a reference point. I can feel the Elizabethans drifting in on me to the left and I kick the rudder a touch to stay away from their blades, but I don't want to put Rad and Shane onto the buoys. The umpire lifts his white flag, "Elizabethans!" he yells, and directs them back to their side. They go and I have a bit more room, but the buoys have just gone red and I'm too close to them now. In another 10 strokes we'll be into the wooden booms. At the same time, we clear out of the protection of the island and the cross-breeze will hit my bow and push me even closer to the timber. My heel comes over before the thought is all the way through my head and I spend the next 3 strokes praying that the thing will respond. Finally it does and we flash past the first of the posts still rating 42, Shane's blade missing the post by over a metre. I had more room than I thought.
Finally I can concentrate on the rowing, and we're in a bit of a mess. The Elizabethans know that we are the quicker crew, so they've put all their eggs in a familiar basket. They are cooking it big time and maybe have us just shaded as we clear the island. We've got a bit of a panicked feel in the boat, the rate hasn't settled as it normally does and we're just a touch rattled. These guys did beat a seeded crew yesterday. I get caught on a finish and then blow the following catch, water sprays over the boat from my blade and I curse myself mentally, "Get it together, you goose!". I sit up and try to relax my inside hand, the water is rough here, we need to be loose and clean, absorb the waves and slop, not let it push us around. The rowing improves slightly, then "Power House!" Shit, I've let myself drift into the centre, now it's me cramping them for room. I kick my heel across again, but remember to correct early and stay away from those damn booms.
Now we're starting to make an impact, we've eased out to half a length and you can feel the boat relax. Length improves and the catches clean up. Almost immediately we are out to a length lead. I return my attention to the steering and make sure I'm not offending the umpire. I'm warned twice more, but so are the Elizabethans and I'm keeping Rad happy by keeping his oar away from the timber. In the next 500m, the difference in class between the crews becomes obvious and we slip away to about 3.5 lengths. We get to the Fawley mark well clear and the mood in the boat is good. Shane turns and snaps something to Sam, I can't hear what it is but the rate drops half a point and the finishes pick up 5%, so I match it. All of a sudden we are in the zone. Boat is traveling beautifully and all the effort has gone out of it. We are well clear and under no pressure. We flow through to the mile marker and the result is beyond doubt. Normally, I'll make no calls, but I sense here we may not all be of one mind.
We have some hard racing to come, you get no points for winning big, just winning. I call "500 to go, relax, extend!" Shane knows exactly what I mean, the rate drops down to 32, pressure stays on, boat is flying. We reach the enclosures, "Down 2 more!" I yell, and the boys in the stern oblige, they've got it under control. Then the applause starts, no yelling and screaming here, just the polite clapping from a couple of thousand well-heeled rowing devotees in the Stewards Enclosure. It's surprisingly loud, and given we are now down to 28 strokes per minute, we can hear every bit of it. It feels good. I make one last check to ensure I don't embarrass myself (and lose the race) by stacking the boat, then sit back and enjoy the last 10 strokes. Rad has his obligatory look for the line, and I can reassure him, "5 strokes mate", he's happy, we cross the line in good shape.
We reach the pontoon to be met by the usual suspects, all just as happy as we are, this is when Henley feels really good. The Elizabethans are the next pontoon over and having their bow number removed, it could all too easily be us instead. But not today!
Cheers, Drew
As some of you may be aware, we had another win this afternoon, this time against the Elizabethan Boat Club. We had a slightly scrambled start, but still had about 3/4 of a length lead by the Barrier, which turned into 3 lengths by Fawley, at which point we essentially switched off and paddled home, gradually reducing the rate to about 28 and taking the win by about 1 and 3/4 lengths in a time of 7:20 which means basically nothing. Tomorrow we meet another London crew, London 'C' this time who have won through the top eighth of the draw. Should we beat them, it is a likely semi-final match up with the London A crew who are the outright favourites. Deja vu anyone?
Well, that's the basic equation for those of you who are just looking for raw info. Anyone who can be bothered is welcome to read on, I've realised that we haven't said much this year about what it is actually like to race at Henley from a pure rowing perspective, so, using today as an example (because it's fresh in my mind), I'll do my best to give you a 'word picture' now. Some of it is common to all regattas and most of you will recognise and identify with those bits. Some is purely Henley - I'll try to convey as well as I can...
Our race today is at 2:45pm, the morning is spent sleeping late and a leisurely breakfast, by 10am everyone is engaged in their usual pre-race routine. Hatsy is working whilst simultaneously organising the day's guest list - he controls all our official contact with the regatta, distributes passes to those supporters who are in town and organises who gets to go with him on the umpires boat - a very powerful and influential figure indeed! Sam is wandering, eating, stretching, playing games on his phone, productively wasting time. Conrad hangs in the kitchen, makes a coffee, plays with the dog, peruses some cows, makes some more coffee. Shane and I both walk, independently, he to get himself focused on rhythm and drive he needs to deliver today, me to stress quietly over steering.
By 11am, it's 8pm in Australia, so the daily phone calls to home are made and then it's time to get ready to go. There is a flurry of zooties and socks, everybody steals back off Shane what he's managed to 'acquire' in the last 24 hours, Hatsy is suited up and we hit the road. It's only 10minutes into Henley, but we hit walking pace traffic and the last kilometer takes 25minutes. Hatsy is late to meet his godparents, so he takes to the pavement. The rest of us park with no dramas and make our way across the grassy lawns, now covered with parked cars, marquees, lawn chairs, blankets, picnics and lots and lots of Pimms. The gathered throngs are excited, happy, halfway cut and ever so polite as we pick our way through to the boat tent.
We converge at the boat, give it a quick once over, then your time is your own for the next 90min before we reconvene for the warm-up. Conrad disappears to stretch and cogitate, he likes to be alone during this period. Shane is off on his usual walk to the start line, he likes to check conditions at every point on the course. I head for the grandstand in the regatta enclosure where I can sit and watch the world go by for a while. Sam has a stretch, then joins me and we spend an hour or so dissecting the abilities of the various crews out training in the lunch interval. It's a good time to soak up the atmosphere, basically it's like the Melbourne Cup carnival, probably Stakes day before it starts to get messy. From the top of the stand here, I can see maybe 10,000 people, there would be 3 or 4 times that spread along the river today.
1:45pm and we meet back at the boat, head for the changerooms, check our bags in and hit the ergs. There is no point trying to warm up on the water, it's chaos out there, we need to be warm before the boat gets wet. Shane is first away, he needs 20min+ to get the 41 year old bones warmed up. Rad comes and goes 2 or 3 times, getting that extra stretching inbetween. I only need maybe 10min at low intensity to get a sweat up, Sam likes to churn along a bit faster, but for not as long. 2:10 and we are back at the boat. John O'Dowd and his wife Katherine are there and wish us luck. John gets the job of holding our bag tickets while we race. The oars are down, the boat comes off the rack at 2:15.
There are 6 diagonally oriented pontoons poking out into the river directly outside the boat tent, we walk straight out onto the first and place the boat on the downstream side. Rad and Sam hold, Shane and I collect oars. To do this we weave between crowds of rowers, coxes, coaches, well-wishers and the general public wandering past to have a close look at "the entertainment" as we prepare to push-off. Oars in, Rad and Shane push off and my nightmare begins.
It's almost impossible to describe the next 15 or so minutes. The basic mechanics are simple. I need to head up about 500m on the north side of the course, then cross over, travel another 1000m on the south, cross back to the north and continue to the start. Simple, right? Not even.
"Number off from the stern", I call. "Stroke", "3", "2", I get in reply, so far, so good. "Sit forward", I say, then take a look behind me. 2 eights have just finished a race and are paddling slowly my way on the bowside, should be able to cross in front of them, a 30 foot cruiser is chugging ever closer on the strokeside, still should be ok... "Attention, row", we shoot away from the landing and I look again. "Shit!", "Easy! Check it!" 3 men in a boat (I kid you not) have punted out from behind the cruiser and are now 10 feet off my bow. "Rad, touch it around", I can still make it before the cruiser crushes my stern, but those eights are getting closer. "From the back, row". We make another 3 strokes, "Easy! Check hard bowside!" One eight just misses the stern, a speedboat has chosen this moment to back out of it's berth about 3 feet from Conrads blade, that cruiser is really close now. A gap opens up briefly, "Sit forward, row!" The boat leaps for the gap and I just squeeze through between the judges stand and a canal boat steaming upstream. I relax momentarily, then a yelp of surprise comes from over my right shoulder. You guessed it, there is a canoe hiding behind the judges stand with a lady in a lovely dress reclining in the bow - her considerate boyfriend/husband/significant other has seen the same gap I did and we're about to fight over it. She has seen me, he hasn't. I've got about 400kgs with a sharp point moving at 15kph, he's got 60kg of very anxious female dead in the water about 15 feet from my pointy bit. "Crap! Check it hard, all crew!" He's finally seen me, I turn to enquire as to his intentions, he sees the look on my face and retreats rapidly back from whence he came, much to his lady's relief.
No kidding, this continues for the next 400m through the most amazing slop, chop and mayhem you'd ever want to see. On the weekend, you can''t even negotiate this section, competing crews actually row up the course proper for the first section. We finally cross to the south side where there are thankfully hardly any pleasure craft. We are now however under the eyes of the enormous crowds on the South bank and the noise is constant. The crew relaxes and starts to work into the warm-up, the boat starts to send and travel, steering is much easier. We get the occasional "Go, Power House" from the bank, some Aussie accents, but interestingly, plenty of British ones too. We do a 10 stroke surge to wake up a bit, we fluff a couple of finishes but the boat feels bright in the water. Shane turns his head and yells "Thirty-five", the stroke-coach attached to his foot plate giving him instant feedback. That's good for a first piece, I'm happier now as we head back to the north side of the course - there are no marshalls telling you when you can cross the course, you make your own decisions and are trusted to do so, but get in the way of a race...
Up here closer to the start the crowd is thinner, as are the pleasure boats. We are now in the warm-up area which takes us around the island. We do another 15 stroke surge, "36", Shane calls as we drop back, this is good, the boat is feeling nice, that rate was achieved with little effort and the rhythm is good. It's 2:33 as we pass the start blocks, time enough for another km of paddling, which we do beyond the start, coming back up directly behind the blocks. I stop the crew about 200m short and we follow the standard routine, check the gate and footstretcher, empty waterbottles (and other things...). "Sit forward, 5 stroke start." I call "Go", and the boat jumps like it's been shot. "41" says Shane, and we're ready.
Conrad and I gently ease the boat forward past the 'stake-boats' or starting pontoons. There is only just enough room between pontoon and bank to sneak through. We are on the Berkshire station today, so we are right underneath the crowd on the south bank. The Elizabethans are already on station, they look tall and competent, but opposition crews always do to me at this time. I search for a weakness as is my want at these times. I know I shouldn't but I can't help it. I concentrate on the bowman, my opposite number, he looks strong, but I spot a tiny bit of gut as he sits back that makes me feel better. This takes all of 2 seconds and I refocus on the task at hand.
Shane and Sam back the boat down to the holder and I can feel him grab the stern. Shane yells "Contact", and I concentrate on getting a line. The first 300m of the course is buoyed on both sides, but there is nothing to separate the crews. You have to thread an imaginary line down the centre of the course and keep to your side of it, whilst keeping off the buoys as well. Hitting a buoy is not a big deal, but in 300m, those buoys turn into timber posts about 6 inches square and this one fact sits in the back of my mind like a lead weight.
While he's sitting forward at the catch, I can just see past Rad's left ear to the 'tell-tales' behind the stake-boat which I can use to get a line. Now it's just a light touch from Rad or me to keep a line, we're protected from the wind here. The umpires boat pulls in, it's about 40 feet long and powered by what sounds like a low revving diesel, big anyway. Standing up front is the umpire, resplendent in his Henley blazer and boater hat, a white and red flag in hand. Sitting behind him, I can see Hatsy's dark curls and Shane's mum Amy sitting quietly - no barracking, cheering or signalling to the crew is allowed from the umpires boat. Nevertheless, Hatsy inclines his head ever so slightly to the crew and I know he's happy that all is good. On the bank I can see Simon, Lindy and Tora who have come down to watch us race, an unknown individual just behind us says quietly, "C'mon House" in an Aussie accent, still don't know who.
The umpire signals his driver forward and announces, "Power House. Elizabethans. When I see that you are both straight and ready, I shall start you like this... Attention (red flag goes up), Go! (Red flag goes down). Get ready please". There is a pregnant pause, I sit still, Rad has brought me beautifully straight, now if he'd just move his bloody head an inch to the right... "Attention.... Go!" The flag drops and both boats leap away.
This is where I'm flying blind and it scares the crap out of me. I've now lost the tell-tales behind Rad's head and there are not enough buoys past yet to get a line from them. I take a quick glance over my right shoulder, but the rating has just touched 47 and I've got bugger all time to get a reference point. I can feel the Elizabethans drifting in on me to the left and I kick the rudder a touch to stay away from their blades, but I don't want to put Rad and Shane onto the buoys. The umpire lifts his white flag, "Elizabethans!" he yells, and directs them back to their side. They go and I have a bit more room, but the buoys have just gone red and I'm too close to them now. In another 10 strokes we'll be into the wooden booms. At the same time, we clear out of the protection of the island and the cross-breeze will hit my bow and push me even closer to the timber. My heel comes over before the thought is all the way through my head and I spend the next 3 strokes praying that the thing will respond. Finally it does and we flash past the first of the posts still rating 42, Shane's blade missing the post by over a metre. I had more room than I thought.
Finally I can concentrate on the rowing, and we're in a bit of a mess. The Elizabethans know that we are the quicker crew, so they've put all their eggs in a familiar basket. They are cooking it big time and maybe have us just shaded as we clear the island. We've got a bit of a panicked feel in the boat, the rate hasn't settled as it normally does and we're just a touch rattled. These guys did beat a seeded crew yesterday. I get caught on a finish and then blow the following catch, water sprays over the boat from my blade and I curse myself mentally, "Get it together, you goose!". I sit up and try to relax my inside hand, the water is rough here, we need to be loose and clean, absorb the waves and slop, not let it push us around. The rowing improves slightly, then "Power House!" Shit, I've let myself drift into the centre, now it's me cramping them for room. I kick my heel across again, but remember to correct early and stay away from those damn booms.
Now we're starting to make an impact, we've eased out to half a length and you can feel the boat relax. Length improves and the catches clean up. Almost immediately we are out to a length lead. I return my attention to the steering and make sure I'm not offending the umpire. I'm warned twice more, but so are the Elizabethans and I'm keeping Rad happy by keeping his oar away from the timber. In the next 500m, the difference in class between the crews becomes obvious and we slip away to about 3.5 lengths. We get to the Fawley mark well clear and the mood in the boat is good. Shane turns and snaps something to Sam, I can't hear what it is but the rate drops half a point and the finishes pick up 5%, so I match it. All of a sudden we are in the zone. Boat is traveling beautifully and all the effort has gone out of it. We are well clear and under no pressure. We flow through to the mile marker and the result is beyond doubt. Normally, I'll make no calls, but I sense here we may not all be of one mind.
We have some hard racing to come, you get no points for winning big, just winning. I call "500 to go, relax, extend!" Shane knows exactly what I mean, the rate drops down to 32, pressure stays on, boat is flying. We reach the enclosures, "Down 2 more!" I yell, and the boys in the stern oblige, they've got it under control. Then the applause starts, no yelling and screaming here, just the polite clapping from a couple of thousand well-heeled rowing devotees in the Stewards Enclosure. It's surprisingly loud, and given we are now down to 28 strokes per minute, we can hear every bit of it. It feels good. I make one last check to ensure I don't embarrass myself (and lose the race) by stacking the boat, then sit back and enjoy the last 10 strokes. Rad has his obligatory look for the line, and I can reassure him, "5 strokes mate", he's happy, we cross the line in good shape.
We reach the pontoon to be met by the usual suspects, all just as happy as we are, this is when Henley feels really good. The Elizabethans are the next pontoon over and having their bow number removed, it could all too easily be us instead. But not today!
Cheers, Drew
Wednesday, 29 June 2011
Whew!
Hi all,
Just a quick one this morning. We've managed to win our first round against a well credentialled London 'B' crew. We had a reasonable start, only a minor steering blemish and held a length lead by the Barrier (600m). From here, according to Hatsy in the umpires boat, we handled the rough conditions better than the lighter London crew and eased out to about 2.5 lengths at the 3/4 mile. London worked hard to pull back, their finishing burst brought them up to a length down, Shane and Sam just tweaked the rate a couple of points and we held them there til the post. Not totally comfortable, but we have certainly all been in more distress. The time was 7:09, the equal fastest for the day, however some of the races were won easily by crews easing up at the line, so hard to tell.
Tomorrow's race is against the Elizabethan BC (old Etonians, apparently), whom once again, we know bugger all about. They beat the seeded New Zealand crew today, so imagine they'll be quick enough! The race is at 2:45pm GMT so 11:45pm EST (tonight) for all you guys. You souls be able to get either a radio feed, albeit a quite eclectic one, via the Henley Royal Regatta website. At the very least, you'll also find live and regularly updated results there.
We're off to bed, got to race again in 15hrs. More soon.
Cheers, Drew
Just a quick one this morning. We've managed to win our first round against a well credentialled London 'B' crew. We had a reasonable start, only a minor steering blemish and held a length lead by the Barrier (600m). From here, according to Hatsy in the umpires boat, we handled the rough conditions better than the lighter London crew and eased out to about 2.5 lengths at the 3/4 mile. London worked hard to pull back, their finishing burst brought them up to a length down, Shane and Sam just tweaked the rate a couple of points and we held them there til the post. Not totally comfortable, but we have certainly all been in more distress. The time was 7:09, the equal fastest for the day, however some of the races were won easily by crews easing up at the line, so hard to tell.
Tomorrow's race is against the Elizabethan BC (old Etonians, apparently), whom once again, we know bugger all about. They beat the seeded New Zealand crew today, so imagine they'll be quick enough! The race is at 2:45pm GMT so 11:45pm EST (tonight) for all you guys. You souls be able to get either a radio feed, albeit a quite eclectic one, via the Henley Royal Regatta website. At the very least, you'll also find live and regularly updated results there.
We're off to bed, got to race again in 15hrs. More soon.
Cheers, Drew
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