Small Boats Regatta took place during a stretch of the most miserable weather I've seen since living in Cambridge. I woke to find Wednesday morning much the same as it had been the past two weeks – windy, rainy and cold. Not exactly ideal conditions for my first race in a scull. When I arrived at the boathouse, Simon Kirk (Captain Kirk to me, because it's cooler) my Peterhouse mixed double partner, seemed completely unfazed by the crosswind, rain and chilly temperatures, telling me that it would work to our advantage since we're actually a bit overweighted for our boat. We'd be more stable. Though I could see the logic of this, I wasn't really convinced. You see, I've never steered the whole course at race pace before. The corners were slightly terrifying me, partly because I knew that if I crashed or capsized us, Captain Kirk would likely never scull with me again. Just kidding. But not really.
The row up to marshall felt surprisingly good, together and strong, despite getting increasingly soaked the closer we came to the starting stations, and a few power ten's helped to settle my nerves a little. We marshalled near the motorway bridge, waiting for the other entrants in the event to arrive. For some reason, the mixed doubles is hugely popular this year. I asked Simon if he was nervous. No. Of course not. Captain Kirk does not get nervous.
The umpires told us to take our places, and we attempted to align ourselves next to the upstream station. The crosswind was heavy, though, and it was obvious that we'd have to fight to keep from being pushed into the towpath bank. After a decent start, we were off, settling into a racing rhythm as we came out from under the motorway bridge on our way to first post corner. My hands were cold, and the blades were slippery from backsplash and rain, making it a little difficult to keep a good grip, but the rowing felt fairly strong. In between checking our line, maintaining the rhythm and trying not to crab, I couldn't help but notice that something felt strange, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I suddenly realised that it was oddly quiet – there was no cox. I didn't have time to really ponder the weirdness of not being shouted at during a race, though.
We took a decent line around grassy corner and made a good push past the Plough. The double chasing us, a Jesus/Downing team, didn't look like they were making any ground on us, but also didn't look like they were falling much behind. The line around Ditton was a bit tight, which brought us onto the reach closer to the bank than was ideal. Under normal conditions, this wouldn't have been a problem, but with the crosswind, we had to give a good bowside push more than once to keep our blades from hitting the bank. A final surge toward the railway bridge saw us across the finish line . . . just a second after the Jesus/Downing team crossed their finish line.
Though I was disappointed we didn't win, I was still quite happy with things – first race in a scull, no crashes, no capsizing, and a close finish, not to mention the prospect of being dry again soon. Captain Kirk wasn't too upset about our loss, either, perhaps due to the consoling effect of post-race chocolate chip cookies back at the boathouse. We live to scull another day.
Reana Maier
Murray Edwards College Boat Club, 1st VIII
Lower Boats Captain 2011-2012, Captain of Boats 2012-2013