The time had come. The time for dreams or better put, nightmares about the booms was over and now it was time to race down the famous Henley course. We’d managed 7 outings in the last few months, two of those at the British Masters, but 500 miles is tricky to overcome for our Inverness-Chesterton (Cambridge) crew. And now we had a different boat to use. Not yellow, or little, but with a fetching shade of blue, Cambridge blue, on the canvases: an ex-Cambridge University Boat Club Hudson. Such is the life of itinerant rowers. As it turned out this boat was perfect for the job at hand.
The weather, always a feature of rowing due to the impact it can have, was set fair, or maybe a bit beyond fair with 35°C forecast. After finding our boat on the trailer the evening before our race I was getting a sweat on just rigging it! We had been given a by into the semi final which was scheduled for early on Saturday morning so we decided to head out for a paddle after the racing on Friday to check out the boat, and the booms. Unfortunately, with the Henley Festival in full swing, the river was almost full with powered craft of all shapes and sizes, and with most of the crew champagne in hand. Nonetheless, we negotiated the somewhat confusing circulation pattern and made it onto the course. The boat felt like a well fitted pair of new boots, in that it didn’t feel noticeably new or different. A couple of practice starts with the booms to my left, my blade (bowside) as a range finder, and all felt settled. I was however somewhat unfortunate that it was only when we were off the water that we realised that our first race was on the Berks (dogs) station, which meant Conor’s blade (strokeside) would be our rangefinder. Not to worry, or not to worry anymore than I was already, we would just come down before racing started for an extra early fine tuning paddle.
Saturday dawned cool, but it was not going to stay that way. The early paddle went well and the 8:30 race time limited the time available for nerves to build. Judging by the times from the quarter finals our semi could end up being our toughest race. In any case, if we lost we could enjoy a day chilling in the heat, and if we won then great also. Perfect flat water and little in the way of wash greeted us at the stake boats (wash can be really significant from the pleasure craft and launches buzzing up and down beside the course). The umpire’s launch pulled up behind us. Gulp. The lack of a run through of what to expect at the start from the umpire caught me out a little but fortunately I was ready when the red flag dropped sending the crew from Kingston RC and ourselves surging forwards.
Control, control, control. The start is not where to screw up and send us into the waiting booms. Start sequence done and we’re up to speed, and have kept parallel to the booms. Breath. A few more strokes and we’re half a length up. Booms still there. All good. Past the 500 m mark and we’ve pushed out to a length. Time to sit up and maintain. More control. They pushed, we sat. They pushed again but more calm, clean rowing brought us out to 1 ½ lengths and the finish. The heat had turned the oar handles to jellied eels but we had survived. Now just 6 hours of 35°C to survive before our final against Bridgnorth RC.
As the day progressed and the sun rose to its zenith, the shadows shortened, putting pressure on the limited pools of shade. But at least this provided the opportunity to socialise with old friends and new. Then it was time. Our opposition had been much slower than us in their semi but there was not just the opposition to worry about. Oh the booms. Solid start, this time on the Bucks (ducks) station. One length quickly became two. But the wash had now kicked up. Long wavelength rollers were unsettling, if not disturbing, feeling more like the Tideway than the Henley stretch. 500 m and now three lengths. Hearing the Chesterton roar (what amazing support). Again time to relax and drift away from the booms just for some extra assurance. Five lengths, but now a flag from the umpire. Back towards the booms. But not too far! Enclosure rowing came the call from Conor. 100 m to go. Dropped the rate, tidied the rowing – and the split dropped – less effort, more speed. And the line! Eleventh outing and we had achieved what we had set out to do. Elated on the row back we nearly forgot to pull in to collect our rather nice Henley medals. Henley Masters, yes, but still lovely medals.
Time to retire from rowing? or time to come up with another fun plan?
