Sam's Take

Morning everyone,

Apologies for our silence of the last 2 days, we've been absorbed with our last heavy water sessions, fine-tuning boat and oars and dealing with last-minute organisational issues.  Following is Sam's eloquent summation of the last 2 days...

Saturday, June 25.

Days Four and Five.

Friday.

After the Adonis had surveyed his domain - strong, luscious curls glistening in the gentle morning sun; the caffeine addicted Count Radisich had necked his requisite dose of French pressed Lavazza; Darwin’s missing link had re-fuelled; the ectomorphic regimental steersman downed some Vegemite toast and I had my fill of nectarine, orange juice, muesli, tea and Tawny Orange marmalade toast, we were ready to depart at a leisurely 0900 for a longer row of three laps in our Irish/Italian coxless four. 

The session began with a 6km lap of steady paddling. Nice and long.  On the second we raced for 4min, then 2 off, 2 on. The third was on for three, paddle, on for one.  We tried a harder gearing on the oars which felt good in this morning’s more gentle conditions; however, we might stick with the 376cm length...

Let’s hit the showers gentlemen.  The showers themselves are actually more brutal than gentlemanly, with a complete lack of any hot water.  Furthermore, I was surprised to learn that the Henley Royal Regatta is also severely lacking in space for women. Sir Radisich tells me that the fairer sex once upon a time did not actually race at Henley at all.  They would, rather, be judged purely on their technique and, presumably, its degree of correctness, precision and beauty.

On the way home I sat in the middle rear seat of our average priced family car that, as Drew described it, “steers like a cow and has the turning circle of your regular lorry.”  I sat between my fellow mesomorph Shane and Count Radisich who, at one point, were sharing some light hearted banter. Hatsy was not satisfied with the calibre of conversation and challenged Shane – “What’s going on – are you sharing a neuron with genius over here!?”  I collapsed, once more, into a fit of laughter.  I am continually in hysterics as a result of Hatsy’s colourful and very original commentary on our daily activities.  Hats has also been of great help and encouragement with his precise and insightful coaching and he must be thanked sincerely for his extraordinary efforts and commitment to our crew of five.

Back at the cottage Hatsy and I attempted to learn Scopa, an Italian card game, with dreams of one day playing with such passion and skill as you might see on exhibition somewhere in Carlton.  Facing a combination of fatigue from rowing and the apparent incredible complexity of the game’s scoring formulae, we decided we were better off heading back into town to our own spectators’ picnic to watch the qualifying time trials for the other events.  

The farmer’s daughter (Victoria or Tora) had been invited to join us for the picnic and she brought Marbles along with her – the farm’s adorable seven month old black Labrador.  We enjoyed some delicious rolls prepared by Chef Hatsy and a desert of assorted bakery cakes.  The most exciting treats, however, were the Scotch eggs with mustard mayo, brought by Tora, made by her mum Lindy.  Delicious!

The trialling became a little tiresome in the spitting rain so we headed for a pint at the Angel, the quaint pub by the quaint Henley bridge.  Tora had to head home at this point to meet a friend but assured us that she hadn’t come simply under duress.  However, we suspected that she had simply enjoyed enough of Rad & Drew's inane farm questions and overly complex rowing explanations, and was taking her chance to make a getaway.  Later, Rad asked Hatsy why he hadn’t leant over to join in on the friendly discussion on the river’s bank.  Hatsy said he was trying to steer as far away as possible from that particular train wreck.  The Guinness went down very well.

We were all quite tired and satisfied, content to head home and then to bed soon after.

Saturday.

This morning, unlike the last two days, I slept straight through the 5am sunrise to be woken by my alarm: any jetlag I had is gone.  We left at the normal time for our last hard session before some rest and taper to race day on Wednesday.  We pulled the oars back in to 376 today and rowed two full two-thousand-one-hundred-and-twelve meter race pieces.  In the first we started against what may have been the London B crew in our event.  They raced flat out for only the first 400m to gain a length in front but we completed the full course at our pace of around 32 strokes/min.  The second piece was 10sec faster, at 7min25sec, and we rated a few points higher with a step to 37 strokes/min over the final 300m.  We’re all pretty happy with this morning’s pace as we’ve rowed fairly long and hard over the last few days.  The legs were fatigued but bodies should be in fine form after a rest day and some short sharp stuff on Monday.

Weigh-in. The crew was called in by the quite proper stewards from bow; Holman, Tulloch, Bailey and O’Connor-Smith.  I was relieved to hear my name in its correct position:  there was some concern yesterday when Drew was told he had missed the crew substitution cut off by one day. Thankfully, the English rowing stewardship aren’t at all similar to our authoritarian officials in Victoria and showed some compassion...  “Steersman?” Asked the steward. “I try” said Drew. He’s actually doing a fantastic job and, aside from the obligatory brush of the barrier on their first day, he’s been steering wonderfully close and straight lines on course and threading the gaps in the downstream leg perfectly.

Holman; 12 stone, 11 pounds (81.2kg)
Tulloch; 14 stone, 8 pounds (92.5kg)
Bailey; 14 stone, 0 pounds (88.9kg)
O’Connor-Smith; 13 stone, 11 pound (87.5kg) 

Another alarmingly cold shower. An apple for some energy and water.  We dropped Shane at the station – he’s visiting a friend in London tonight.  We came home for some lunch.  Hatsy and I tried Scopa again and, with a minor sticking point in the gameplay overcome, managed to get the knack of it quite quickly.  Hatsy won 11 to 7. 

We headed back into town to watch “The Draw”.  It’s held in the Henley town hall and has, like so much else about this wonderful place I’ve landed myself in, an amazing air of tradition and decorum about it.  I really like how everything is very formal, polite, and proceeds with a degree of organised calmness.  For example, in a supermarket carpark in Australia you would not expect to have a motor-home received by the attendant with much good grace.  Here, however, instead of lambasting the poor trip maker, the carpark attendant simply enquired to be sure everything is in order and to wish the gentleman in the caravan a lovely holiday! Quite!

But, I digress! We have been matched against London B for our first race.  If that was them we raced this morning then Hatsy is confident that we’ll mow them down without too much trouble.  Nevertheless, our draw seems pretty challenging: provided we win round one, we may well meet the seeded New Zealand crew in round 2.  Well, it was never supposed to be easy! We will, of course, just have to row as hard and fast as we can and we’re confident that we are paddling fast enough to be more than just competitive. 

It’s actually another beautiful sunny afternoon here in this English summer.  We have beef stroganoff planned for dinner, with some nice French wine, and Butterscotch icecream for desert! In the mean time Hatsy has just served me some amazing canapés: mouth watering stuff! Tomorrow’s a rest day and we think we might visit a nearby pub for a meal.  

It’s been smashing thus far, old chap, what what... mmyess, quite!

Sam

Note:  As Sam observes, we don't have much clue about the form of other crews in our event.  Whilst our draw looks tough, we have no hard data to draw on.  Of course, the same holds true for other crews wondering about us.  I'm certain the grapevine will do it's usual pointless work in the coming days, and we'll all find out on Wednesday!  We shall, as always, keep you posted.

Cheers Drew