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Great River Race Sep 09

The Great River Race 2009
September the 5th saw us representing the ocean rowing community at the Great River Race – 22 miles along the River Thames from Greenwich to Richmond, which is – apparently – the opposite way to how it’s normally rowed.

Having arrived the night before with our better halves (which in Ian’s case is 3 people!), we rose at stupid o’clock on Saturday and walked to the launch site. When I say we walked to the launch site I mean we did an impromptu walking tour of the Docklands before realising that our directions were wrong at which point we decided to wing it and eventually found the launch site while worrying a fox on the way.

Typically for me, and for Ian, we turned up ridiculously early. While this works well for meeting the crew, it meant hanging around the launch site for over an hour trying not to look too shifty while the stands arrived and set up. Soon, though, the crew started to turn up. First came Jim fresh (or not so fresh) from the airport then James, Peter and Colin. Simon and Charlie – having travelled up from Cornwall with a boat – had, apparently, decided to randomly abduct someone off of the pavement on the way. Happily, this turned out to be Linda. Thus, our boat crews were assembled and, when Gordon arrived, our boats too.

We were to row “Oyster Shack” an Atlantic veteran that could take a crew of 6 and a brand new fours boat. Both were light, carbon fibre boats although, while Simon’s boat was – he assured us – going to thrash us due to how incredibly light she was, Oyster Shack was carrying a lot of water in a number of different compartments and had to be emptied by hand and stirrup pump.

Due to the size of our boats, we were directed to an alternate slipway away from the official launch site. We found it to be unmanned by race officials and overrun with boats all trying to bully their way down the slip regardless of their start position in the race. At this point we decided to take charge and – by talking to crews, assisting with launches, hauling trailers around by hand and standing in front of several cars so that they couldn’t move – managed to bring a semblance of order, fairness and speed to the proceedings. Although that Dutch bloke didn’t seem to appreciate me trying to help him off with his shoes.

Launched – and after an unplanned swim to attach the rudder – we made our way to the start. Jim, James, Peter, Ian and I were on Oyster Shack while Simon, Charlie, Linda and Colin rowed away on the superlight fours boat and had started 14 minutes before us courtesy of the handicapping system. The start appeared to be a melee of unorganised boats but, as we got closer, we realised that everyone was just trying to time their approach to the start line while avoiding collisions (whoops). This task was made easier by the timing marks which had been put out by the race organisers and, in the end, we started just 10 seconds late.

The Great River Race began as a race between the ferry men on the river. As such it still retains rules which ensure that the hugely diverse fleet adheres as closely as possible to the original races. The seats must be fixed, the boat must be coxed and it must carry at least one passenger.  To achieve this, our seats were fixed in place with wooden batons and Ian coxed while I took my turn as a passenger. Jim, James and Peter pulled lustily at the oars and we moved smoothly away from the start line. With nothing to do for the moment except enjoy the view, I attached a couple of action cameras to my head and attempted to film the first couple of hours of the race. Alas, I later discovered that I had mainly filmed the water as it rushed past. I had not been able to fasten the rubber head strap tight enough to keep the cameras upright although I had been able to fasten it tight enough to give myself a blinding headache. Ho hum.

At first we seemed to be doing quite well. We were jockeying for position with a couple of boats and even seemed to be gaining on one or two. Pretty soon though those boats got away from us and the later starting boats began to pass us. Carbon fibre or not, our boats were designed for crossing oceans and the things you need in that environment – storage, accommodation, self-righting ability – add weight. The simple rowing boats were far lighter than us. However, the city of London was rolling past and everyone was enjoying the row so we weren’t disheartened.

Passing under Tower Bridge was a particular highlight of the early stages. Followed shortly after by the satisfaction of rowing past the fours boat. It turned out that her light weight was her undoing. In comparison to the other participating boats, our boats were not only heavy but also much larger. With the extra size comes extra windage and we were all rowing into a head wind. In fact, passing under some of the bridges was like rowing into a wind tunnel and the lightweight fours boat was getting the worst of it.
Soon we reached Westminster and we had our first change-over at the 1 hour mark while passing the London Eye. This let James try out the cabin while I slipped into the stroke seat – cameras still on my head – and rowed under Westminster Bridge and past the Houses of Parliament. Until the race I hadn’t appreciated just how many bridges there are in London and many of them were lined with cheering spectators.

At the 2 hour mark I took the cameras off and Ian swapped the cox’s position with Jim and we ploughed on while I tried not to look at the holes in the legs of Jim’s ancient rowing lycra which was about a foot away from me and exactly at my eye level. Apparently, Jim had had his lycra since he was 13 and it was as good as the day he first put it on. I beg to differ.

We had been setting a decent “Atlantic pace” so far with an occasional 10-stroke sprint led by the cox. At some point during this third hour we unconsciously decided to up the pace to fit more with the race and seemed to communicate this telepathically between us. By the 2½ hour mark we were rowing at an increased pace with a 10-stroke sprint every 30 strokes. At the 3 hour mark we had our final change-over which gave Peter a break after 3 hours of rowing and put James back on the oars. The fourth hour was our best.

The pace continued unabated and we were passing a lot of boats now. We were out in the countryside and, as luck would have it, on a stretch of the river very familiar to our cox and new rowing coach – Jim. Along with essential advice and encouragement, he steered us along the river taking the best route for the tide and wind conditions. We were getting faster and faster. Every time he spotted a new boat on the horizon he gave us a countdown on our distance to it and made each one into a battle. We were adjusting our speed both to pass boats and to play up to the crowds on the bank.

There were some slightly surreal moments at this stage. James holding a conversation with some friends who were watching from a bridge as we rowed under it, Jim doing the same with a practicing single scull which was being rowed by an Olympic athlete that he knew, and overtaking a small rowing boat which was crewed by the Village People.

As we got closer to the finish, the crowds and the noise grew in size. We were now doing 20-stroke sprints every 30 strokes and looking for the finish line. People on boats and along the bank were shouting rough distances to the finish as encouragement and we started to see race boats rowing slowly back down the river so we knew we were close but just how close. The pace increased again and we were now doing 20-stroke sprints and 10-stroke recoveries. Then we heard our names and there on the bank was Anne-Marie, Heather and the boys. We must be close. We started sprinting and didn’t stop. Jim was goading us on and Peter was shouting encouragement. Where was the finish?

The cannon fire scared the crap out of us. We got two cannons for some reason and we weren’t expecting either of them. On the plus side we were left in no doubt that we had finished. Either that or pirates were about to board us. We only saw the finish sign after we passed it but that was okay we had finished, we had had a great time and we were elated – in a tired sort of a way.

We turned the boat and headed toward the bank. We took our time. Once alongside we opened the beers and went looking for food. Pretty soon the lightweight fours boat came into view and crossed the finish line to another surprise broadside. They looked knackered and headed over to moor alongside us. Once we’d fed and recovered we took the boats down to the slipway to recover them. Gordon – unsung hero of the day – had brought one car and trailer to the finish then took public transport from Richmond back to – and across – London to collect the second one.

The evening was the after party. Being held the opposite way around this year – due to the tides – robbed us of a showy finish in the city but gave us the perfect site for a social. After getting our certificates we wolfed down some more scran and retired to the beer tent where there was a dance floor, band and DJ. Most of us were past being able to dance but the girls were up for it and took the children up with them. A lot of people thought it was a better finish and party at Ham House.

We’d managed 3 hours 52 minutes in Oyster Shack and the lightweight fours boat battled to the finish in 4 hours 28 minutes. Our handicaps had been worked out incorrectly but that didn’t matter. We’d had an awesome row through the city of London along the River Thames and made a very respectable time. I was knackered, I had callouses on my callouses and blisters on those. Also, my arse was sore but I don’t want to talk about that. Great River Race again next year?

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