Six rows, six different boats

One thing that distinguishes Rock N Row is rowing diversity. Sculling boredom is a distant emotion that we leave to the owners of skinny boats who spend all their time on a river to the south named after an English prince. Yesterday, when Paul, Thomas and I stepped into three Echoes for a 6.5 mile row at racing pace, I realized that it was my sixth consecutive row in six different boats, and in six different water conditions. It went something like this:

First row: Carmi and I went out to Misery Beverly and Salem in the Alden double to see if our synchronicity in sport was complete enough to take on the Blackburn Challenge –together. Two to three foot rollers met us at Brown’s Island with a little bit of chop that got worse as we rounded Misery. As we had reached Beverly and Salem Willows, we were still dry, and our rowing lengths worked out.

Row Two: But, in the Alden double, my 220 pound ass elevates the bow. Rather than add 110 pounds of weight to balance it, we borrowed the Merry Wherry Ranger from a friend and took it on a spin to the Danvers River and back. Moderate swells and chop, sunny for once, and very stable. When we pull it with moderate pressure, it goes six mph. When we go all out it goes six mph. But it’s smooth and light for a wooden boat that looks like a miniaturized version of something John Haenke’s Viking forefathers rowed to Nova Scotia 1200 years ago. So we’ve decided to row it in the Blackburn in the sliding seat double touring division. Should it be very rough that day, we’ll go six. Should it be smooth, we’ll go six. We won’t win anything but if we finish, the world, not to mention the Paris household, will be a better place.

Row Three: I recently received -- as an amazing birthday present – a high-end racing shell called an Empacher. It is very light, fast and made for experts far more competitive than I at this juncture of my rowing career. Nonetheless, it is an extraordinary thing of beauty that still takes my breath away when I view it in its entirety. Every stroke offers a way to touch rowing’s elegant potential in its purest form. I keep it at my office on the Danvers River and row after work. On this particular evening gigantic cumulus clouds competed with blue sky; the power boat guys were afraid of rain and stayed in. I had the river to myself. It was still, smooth and glorious. Five miles in 35 minutes.

Row four: A semi-stormy day in Marblehead, Carmi was away so took out my Peinert Dolphin, the best open water boat I’ve ever rowed. I played in the conditions between Brown’s Island and Halfway Rock. I’ve had this craft for five years and really love it. No boat feels as good as I settle into the seat where everything is perfectly familiar, balanced and right. Together , we’ve been through a lot—races, the Blackburn, even a six-day row from the Harvard Boat House on the Charles to Portland Maine. Chop came and went, clouds, mostly dark, fluttered about. We cruised.

Row five: Carmi’s Maas Aero was idle for too long so I took it over to Salem Harbor at high tide and rowed it down and back. It’s a great all-around boat that offers stability and some speed. I was too lazy to change the shims in the pins so I rowed it as though I was her height and weight. The Aero and I fought each other for a while, then I relented and all went better, as rain kept me cool. I like the serenity of the far end of Salem Harbor in high tide. The cormorants and ducks watch from the shore.

Row six, a day later, in the Echo in the company of Thomas and Paul, as mentioned earlier. It was rough, foggy, alluring, challenging and beautiful -- really just a magnification of my diverse week of rowing. I have to say that I never envisioned owning more than a shell at a time, or having access to a club with so many options and fantastic people to row with. Makes me realize how lucky we are to have found our beloved sport, our club and each other.