This morning's Sunrise row was fabulous!  Low wind, smooth water inside the islands, and not too cold yet -- what a joy.  Sarah, Howard, Eileen, Erica, Hilary and I got all the boats in the water by 6:02am and set off for Children's.  What a surprise -- the Harvest Moon was setting over Little Harbor as the sun was coming up behind Children's.  Could not have requested a more magical morning.

Thanks to our phone carrying photographers, we have this day captured.

Harvest Moon setting over the Boat Yard -- Sarah

Eileen and Pal waiting at the Harbor entrance -- Sarah

Little Harbor at 5:45 Low Tide -- waiting for the Sun - Erica

There goes the Moon over Children's -- Erica

While here comes the Sun beyone Children's -- Erica

Where to follow the teams for the Rallye in France

We, the intrepid pirates, are flying off to (invading?) southern France this week and launching our yolettes next Monday in Toulouse.  It will be exciting and I hope we all learn something new about ourselves, our rowing partners, and the world.  I also look forward to participating in an truly international event which will give us the opportunity to know our fellow rowers in both a competitive and a cooperative spirit.  But really, it's all about the food and wine!!

Here is our blog link that Shannon set up. 
http://www.readytorow.blogspot.com/

A RE-POST FROM ROCKNROW GOOGLE GROUP

I enjoyed reading Paul's recent message to the group that I thought it was worth sharing on the BLOG. Hard to believe we are in our 7th season and if it wasnt for the Blackburn Challenge, Rock&Row might never have been created. Enjoy

 

A FEW THOUGHTS ABOUT BLACKBURN:

 

I think, although I am not absolutely certain and haven’t done the hard work to figure it out, that this is my seventh Blackburn Challenge coming up this Saturday.  

Yesterday, Stephanie and I did our last long row, the Grand Tour of the World: around Tinker’s Island, out to Halfway Rock, around Bakers Island, around Misery Island and home, basically outside everything in the neighborhood!

As we rowed through the cove on the Manchester side of Misery someone yelled to me wanting to know how long the boat is. 

“21 feet” I said. “And it weighs 35 lbs.”

“Wow”, he exclaimed turning to his buddy, “that boat weighs 35lbs!”

“We’re getting ready for the Blackburn Challenge next weekend.” I share. 

“My seventh and I’m 62 years old!”

I feel really good to be ready to go out and row this event again. Thankful for my body, teaching me, yet again, to pay attention, listen and take loving care of myself. In return I get to enjoy the blissful pleasure of being on the ocean in my rowing shell, day after day, mile after mile, feeling good in my body. What a gift!

Thankful for Stephanie, my rowing partner, she constantly invites me to go a little harder, a little longer, no slacking on her watch! Whenever I think I’m rowing well, keeping my boatspeed up to race pace, not falling too far behind, she disappears, later saying, “Oh, I feel light, like skipping over the water!”

 

For those of you getting ready for your first Blackburn, a few thoughts about preparation.

Rest, really important to let your body recover this week. I often don’t realize how much demand I have been putting on my body and how much rest I need to be fully recovered and ready to go. Planning to stretch, do a few easy rows, get a massage etc.

Fuel My body needs fuel during the race. I have tried a lot of different combinations for race fuel including one awful protein enriched mixture tasting like pancake batter that I fed to the fishes around mile 12. After years of fooling with different stuff I have settled on Cytomax drink mix and GU. It works for me. In several Blackburns I have hit the wall around mile 14, a few GUs and fluid does the trick! 

Hydration Again, I’ve tried a lot of different strategies including Camelback hydration systems velcroed to the deck of my boat and have found that for me the best strategy is to PREHYDRATE beginning Thursday before the race. Prehydration infuses that body tissue with fluids decreasing the fluid demands during the race. Then I row with bottles just like a regular row.

You can prehydrate by drinking alot of water, and I mean a lot, eat lots of watermelon and other watery fruits and veggies, to the point where you have to pee constantly. It works.

Pace You will row faster than you normally row. Just happens that way, caught up in the race frenzy with boats all around. Don’t forget it’s 20 miles! I’ve seen lots of Rock & Row’ers go out hard and burn out by Straitsmouth. I try to find a comfortable rhythm with good boatspeed knowing that the run from Milk to Eastern Point will be hard as it always is, good to have energy for the second half!

Course The first and perhaps toughest navigation challenge is the river. If you look at a chart you’ll see the twists and turns. Not sure yet what the current and tides will be doing but it runs hardest in the middle and the sides can get very shallow at low water. You can actually run aground in the mud flats! Following the channel is safe but slow as it corkscrews around. My recommendation is to study the chart and have a plan! (BTW, Capt Jack is the best river runner I know)

 

That’s it for this morning, Bertha will be at boathouse Friday at 5. If you want your boat on Bertha, be there. If you are not able to be there, talk to either Chris or myself, we’ll be happy to load your boat for you but you have to ask. If we do not hear from you and you do not show up Friday at 5 we will assume you are making your own arrangements. 

 

More later in the week about timing for Bertha’s arrival in Gloucester. 

 

And for those NOT rowing BLackburn...WHY NOT?

Come cheer us on!

 

Have a gentle week, 

 

Paul

New Seal Sighted -- Hilary's first seal!

It was a bit chilly this morning as a small Sunrise group (Hilary, Pal, and Bobbie) set off for a trip around Children's.  The whole harbor felt different -- hushed -- because of the fog further out beyond us.  There didn't seem to be any boats moving around. 

We were half way to Children's heading due East when a seal popped up just off Hilary's stern.  Unusual place for it since the water is so deep there but it was a delight to see one. It bobbed up and down for a minute checking out the odd boat and then left us. 

We finished the row circuit on a down wind course from Marblehead Rock to Little Harbor with the fog chasing us in.

Great morning.  Glad to see the sun came out, though.  The rain is starting to be a bit too much.

Happy 4th of July!!

First Seal sighting of the season

I've been on the lookout for seals for about a week.  It's fun to think about something different out there at times and it adds a bit of a challenge -- It's often hard to distinguish a seal's head from one of the slimy buoys of the abandoned lobster pots (but they do behave a bit differently). 

I wasn't really watching for them this morning because the row was taking all my concentration fighting the SE wind that was blowing me sideways as we headed back from the Beverly green channel marker.  As a result of the wind, I was closer than usual to one of the islands -- specifically Coney Island -- so I was particularly focused on my leg pushes and not on the scenery.  As I was just past the island's south end I noticed a black buoy just off my stern and I thought -- odd, I didn't remember running over that.  Then suddenly the buoy turned and looked me straight in the eye and sniffed in my direction.  It was a good sized adult seal head -- very sleek.  As I was still rowing a strong stroke, I left the seal behind quickly but luckily Eileen was rowing near by and when I called out, she saw it, also. 

In years past, the seals have tended to be around the islands toward Beverly and around the ledge on the way to Tinkers.  So happy scouting as you row.

STANS' FIRST ROW

To all,

Sheila and I went rowing for the first time this season: for me it was 20 months ago for Sheila last September. The row was a lot of fun and although the weather was terrible we had a good time.

What I wanted to relay to everyone is that the boat yard was very busy yesterday: one boat was going in the water when we arrived, another was put in while we rowed, a third was put in the water while we were washing the boats and one more was being picked up when we left. Also, the skulls are packed together very tightly, and the oars are somewhat inaccessible.

The personnel working were very courteous and helpful: made sure we had access to the dock, warned us before they were lifting  and told us when it is safe to walk around the crane. Also, we parked on the road not in the boat yard. Being so crowded we washed the boats on the dock.
We had to enter the water from the side of the dock, as there was a boat @ the front of the dock. However, we cut our row short when we saw that the front of the dock was clear and they weren't lifting yet. It was starting to rain anyway.

We cooperated with them and they cooperated with us. The important thing is to stay out of the way when they are lifting or moving a boat, and allow them access to move equipment around.

Thanks

Stan

GOOD ROWING STORY ABOUT ROWING "THE EVERGLADES CHALLENGE" FROM JAY PARIS

Finally got around to writing up some thoughts on my row . . .

In March I set off on my 3rd attempt at the 300 mile Everglades Challenge.  This time I was using my 18' Alden Ocean, a rowing shell made for open water at over 30" wide, but so wide open that I made my own splash deck to help keep waves out.  On Saturday morning March 2, I and over 100 boats shoved off from a beach near Tampa, Florida stocked with all the food, clothing, shelter etc we would need for the journey.  Over 100 pounds of gear included probably 25 pounds of water, enough to easily get me to the first checkpoint 60 miles away.  Most of the kayaks were well underway by the time I pulled my shell into the shallows and climbed in (see photo/article http://aqualifestyle.wordpress.com/2013/03/12/finishing-the-everglades-challenge/), but I caught many of them in the 5 mile crossing of the Tampa Bay inlet.

The morning was a fairly uneventful row at about 17 strokes per minute, averaging a speed of about 4 miles per hour, a pace my training runs had proven effective with a boat this heavily loaded.  From past attempts, I learned the importance of eating something every 2 hours even if I was not hungry, so my energy levels stayed steady.  The calmness was shattered at about 11 AM, when a strong North wind blew across Sarasota Bay at about 30 mph.  I had a small kayak sail up, 1 square meter, and at first it was fun.  But the swells built, and reached 3-4 feet in the middle of the 8 mile expanse, so after turning on my electric pump to drain the waves that had splashed in, I lowered the sail and surfed on just under oar power.  But still, I was able to maintain 6-7 mph doing that, and keeping the bow pointed downwind without broaching in the waves was tricky.  Lots of fun and got the adrenaline up there!  After passing under the bridge at the bay's end, I pulled over to feast on the Subway 6" Italian Double-Meat sandwich I had packed, a regular staple for me the first lunch of these longer trips.

The rest of the day was uneventful, staying in the InterCoastal Waterway (ICW) that runs down either side of Florida, past many waterfront homes and some bars (I hear).  Uneventful for me, but some of the sailboats - oh yeah, did I mention I was the only rower? - had taken the "outside" route South in the Gulf of Mexico.  A few got in distress, and soon the Coast Guard plane was patrolling up and down the coast, and the local water-bourne police were chasing out to sea.  One of the competitor's boats was never seen again, as it sunk out from under them, but no lives were lost.  Me, I just waved at the high-speed rescue boat traffic and rowed on.  And on.  I arrived at the checkpoint a little before 10 PM, rowing the last several hours in the dark (never mind the comments), and decided to camp there for the night.  Others chose to press on, some hardly stopping at all in the 300 miles, but I am not as excited about all-nighters as I once was.

By 8 AM the next day I was back underway, fully refreshed and stocked with plenty of water for the next leg, probably 120 miles or so down the coast.  My rowing took me past Boca Grande and across Charlotte Harbor, site of the world-record 13 foot hammerhead shark, then down the "inside" route of Matlacha Pass where I would be more protected from the wind.  Of course that is a relative term, and as I approached the Sanibel Causeway bridge at dusk, the wind kicked up above 40 mph driving most boats for shelter.  I kept going South, and waves kept building because now there was no "inside", I was pretty much in the Gulf.  A few miles later, though, I was able to duck inside and pick up the ICW again at Fort Myers Beach, surfing into the harbor on 4 foot swells in the pitch black.  Fun!

 

This time I got lucky, and found a waterside restaurant to grab a burger instead of mixing up another batch of freeze-dried lasagna.  And I know you won't believe me, but I did not have a beer, opting for iced tea because I knew damn well how easy it would be to quit!  Met a nice couple from Indiana who were a little surprised at my journey, taking lots of photos and wishing me well as I shoved off.  Then more rowing until past 10 PM, when I finally gave up my quest for a sandy beach and instead tied my boat to some mangroves and threw up a tiny tent deep into the jungle.  A successful day of probably 70 or more miles.  Three kayakers came along looking to share my space, but turning it down when they saw what I had settled for!

 Early the next morning I was awakened by a local out fitness kayaking at 6 AM, checking to see if everything was alright.  With no other option, I packed up and after some oatmeal and apricots, was underway for Day Three.  With great rowing weather in the upper 50's, I soon forgot about the sub-40 degree nights and took in the scenery of Southwestern Florida.  The ICW at this point was a series of meandering channels through sand bars and small mangrove islands, with some development on the barrier island facing the Gulf, but not much where my course took me.  The occasional power boater rushed by in a hurry to get somewhere, but for me it was a peaceful morning.  By lunchtime I arrived at Wiggins Pass, a spot where the ICW pauses and you have to exit to the Gulf of Mexico.  I met up with one of the kayakers from the night before, as he was packing up his tent - he slept in after coming all this way the night before, and I found out about a dozen or more others camped at that pass as well.

As tricky as it had been surfing in on 4 foot swells the night before, rowing out into them was even trickier.  I first tried just walking by boat out the pass, along the beach where it seemed less rough.  But a wave quickly slammed the boat into my calf, with a force just this side of snapping both bones..  So I retreated and bit the bullet, hoping in and rowing headlong into the breaking froth.  I soared up the fronts of the waves, into the air and slamming down the backsides, but did not suffer any issues thankfully.  Once past the breakers, a 90 degree turn to Port and off I went, rowing South towards Marco Island.  This many days and miles in, I rarely saw other competitors.  An occasional kayaker, either passing or being passed.  Some sailboat in the distance, usually passing me with the very favorable winds they were getting.  But mostly, me rowing, not looking and hoping nothing got in my way.  Well, I did have a Walmart rearview mirror mounted on my rigger, but honestly that was more to make the kayakers comfortable, so they would think I could see.  On Day One, for example, I ran smack into a piling with my Port rigger arm, somewhat tearing it from the bottom of the boat (more on that damage later).  I also ran into an oyster bar so hard, that when the boat stopped and I stepped out, my feet were on solid sand/oysters, several inches out of the water!

 This afternoon, though, was without a doubt the most mentally fatiguing for me.  At lunchtime back at Wiggins, I ate some tunafish and crackers.  And then I did not really eat anything much all afternoon.  A recipe for disaster for me, as I "bonked" and had to pause every half hour or so.  For whatever reason, when this happens to me I do not realize why until much later, and I just keep trying to push on instead of stopping and having some real food.  By dusk, I was back "inside" on the ICW and had to call it a day, several hours short of my goal or reaching a burger joint in Marco.  To make matters worse, as I set up my tent on a small mound of shells washed up by tropical storms, several kayakers I passed on Day Two whisked by on an all-night push to the 2nd checkpoint.  I would never catch up with them again.

Day Four was through more beautiful territory, the morning cruising through long relatively straight stretches between forests of mangroves, with dozens of Osprey pairs up high scouring the shallows for their breakfast.  I kept thinking, "what a great place to set up a rowing camp", you could go for miles and miles.  And I did.  I reached Marco by lunchtime, finally getting my greasy meal, opting for an egg and sausage sandwich and taking a pastrami sandwich to go, for midday.  This rower was NOT going hungry AGAIN!  From here, I cut through the Big Marco River and out into the (Ten?) Thousand Islands area of the northern Everglades.  Beautiful uninhabited islands, white sandy beaches, even saw what must have been a 5 foot Tarpon jumping.  Very nice, and a calm day crossing a stretch once again very exposed to the Gulf.  By sunset I turned East into the heart of the Everglades, bound for Checkpoint 2 in the tiny village of Chokoloskee, apparently populated with Florida "crackers" and tourists from Ontario with trailer homes.  I landed a little before 9 PM, and set up my tent there since I had to get an Everglades permit from the ranger station the next morning.

After a quick stop in the Havana Grill for an egg sandwich and coffee, I set off in a borrowed truck for the rangers, a few miles down the road.  I was accompanied by Dolphin Gal, an Octogenarian competing in the race in a single kayak.  Now before you laugh (ok, too late), she is something else.  Last year in this race, she flipped out in the Gulf in the middle of the night and could not right herself.  After many attempts, hypothermia started to set in, and she called for a Coast Guard rescue.  They took her to the hospital and treated her, and a few hours later once they released her she jumped back in the race!  In this year's race, I must have passed her half a dozen times, only to find out she did not stop at night and passed me as I slept.  Anyway, we got our camping permits and by 9:30 AM I was off to see the 'gators.

 Now in this race, the Everglades Challenge, you have two options at this point.  You can either go back towards the coast, and make a relatively straight route South towards the 3rd Checkpoint, or you can take the Wilderness Waterway right through the heart of the 'glades.  It adds maybe 30 miles to the length, and takes you through some rough areas, but if you successfully complete it you get - in addition to a shark's tooth for the "regular" race - you get your own alligator tooth award.  So of course I opted for the long, difficult route.  At first it was not bad, rowing through very twisty channels as if they had been carved by running water over many, many years, and then opening up into huge bays several miles across, reminding me of Northern Canada.  But everywhere as far as you could see, Mangrove trees.  As the afternoon wore on, though, I entered some narrow channels.  So narrow that both oars could not be in the water at the same time.  And still twisty, even more twisty.  So rowing was a tricky game, turning over my right shoulder to find an open spot between mangrove roots for one blade, and then while pulling with that handle turning over my other shoulder to find a spot for my other oar.  And so I went, first twisting the boat one way and then the other.  And all the while, just out of sight up ahead, Splash as unseen alligators jumped into the water from their resting spot on the roots.

Now in the Everglades, you cannot camp anywhere you want, you have to use sites that have been set up for that purpose.  At the end of one of these alligator channels, there was one such site.  But I had a dilemma - it was only 5 PM or so, on a day when I got a late start, so I was nowhere near tired yet.  But with night falling soon, and such twisty narrow channels, I could not row in the dark.  Now I had a way I could sit in the boat facing forward and use a canoe paddle, so I thought, this is the time to try it.  Until I got out of the boat and actually attempted to do this.  You see, I had practiced a little at home, but this evening there was a 20 mph wind blowing from the West.  And I was on the end of one of those longer bays, so there was a chop about a foot high.  Not much for when I am rowing, with long oars to help balance me and many, many hours in rough water under my belt.  But scary with just a canoe paddle, in a tippy shell, on waters with names like Alligator Bay.  So after an hour of deliberating, I decided to stay the night, knowing it would cost me a lot of distance.  As darkness set in, so did the rats, and they were not shy.  On a whim, I peed a circle around my tent (I said it was a small tent), and they left me alone.  They were unable to get into my food and water, since I had heard about these guys in advance and had proper containers for everything.  Still a little creepy.

 The next morning, as Day Five dawned, I was off and rowing.  Turns out there were no more twisty channels that morning, so I could easily have rowed well into the night the day before, but who knew.  Mid-morning I saw my first gator, a five footer sunning himself on the mud.  Turns out they don't like 40 degree nights either, so they take full advantage of the sun.  It was a smallish channel, and so he was probably the biggest guy around, so he was pretty territorial as I backed the shell up to him for a closer look.  But I had time to make up, so on I went, joining up into the upper Broad River which then widened into Broad River Bay, then shrunk back down into a continuation of a now much bigger Broad River.  It was at this point that I spotted a dinosaur of a 'gator, with his head and upper torso pulled up onto Mangrove roots to warm in the sun.  His mouth was fully 15 inches across from side to side, and he looked to be at least six feet from tip of the snout to his hind legs.  I found out later this meant a 12 footer, although, I would estimate more likely 9 feet.  Anyway, when I backed up towards him, he started to hiss and even make some sort of growling noise.  I always thought those noises on the animal channel were fake!  He slid backwards into the water, but not to escape.  He just lay there and stared at me, lifting his back out of the water to increase his profile and doing his alligator threatening stuff.  Rather than hurt him, I decided to move off.  It was lunchtime, and needless to say I did not leave the boat, but ate while keep an eye out for bubbles.

I continued on down the Broad River and headed South where it empties into the Gulf, and a few miles later headed back inland up Broad Creek.  As the name implies, much smaller than the river, but quite pretty.  For a while.  And then it gets narrower.  And narrower.  By 5 PM I was in the upper reaches of Broad Creek, and branches blocked out much of the sky.  And it was still getting narrower.  So narrow, in fact, that I had to remove my rigger and break out my canoe paddle - all without leaving the boat!  Of course there was no wind in this jungle, so it was not as scary that way, but by now I was well-educated on the local fauna.  But I managed the tricky maneuver, and spun around to face forward as I Daniel Boone'd it further inland.  The creek got so narrow, I had to use my hands to pull my way through the mangroves, as tiny creatures went scrambling up the limbs and roots I grabbed.  It got darker and darker, and I donned my headlamp so I could spot the course of the creek.  The tide changed direction, and the creek meandered aimlessly it seemed, so several times I became totally disoriented.  My only saving grace was that over the years, kayakers had cut the occasional limb out of the way as they crept through this section of the Wilderness Waterway, and so that is how I knew I was headed the right direction.

It was eerie in the jungle in the dark, as you might imagine, although not scary if I kept moving.  Occasionally I would turn my headlamp towards the jungle, and the sound of loud rain echoed through the mangroves.  Well, not real rain, but small crabs that let go of their perch up in the limbs as my light hit them.  Kind of cool.  Eventually the creek opened up into the Harney River, and I was able to rest with a bit of Turkey Jerky for dinner.  It was a beautiful night with clear skies, and I had many miles to go to reach my next campsite, so I set off paddling my boat like a canoe through the forests.  After a few hours I cam to the Harney River Chickee, a designated campsite.  A Chickee is sort of a dock built out in the water, not connected to shore.  It makes a great camping platform, primarily because there are no rats, but you do have to climb up about 6 feet or more, depending on the tide.  Well, anyway, this Chickee was full so I had to press on.  At around 1 AM, I finally reached the Shark River Chickee, and found it completely empty.  I wasted no time with fanciness of warm food or drink, just hopped into my sleeping bag and downed a couple of Ensure's.  I provisioned myself with two of these protein/vitamin milkshakes a day, one before bed and one first thing in the AM, to sort of "fill in the cracks" of my diet.  Of course, I often forgot to drink them, but the idea was there - and this night, it was a good idea.

 I arose early, realizing that this was Day Six and I still had nearly 80 miles to go.  There is an 8 day limit to the race, and I had probably 40 miles to the 3rd checkpoint.  So after about 5 hours of shut-eye, off I went.  I rowed hard, with the hope of finishing in time for the Awards Ceremony the next day (a day short of the official 8 days allotted), a 10 AM Feast on the Beach at Key Largo.  I made good time to Checkpoint 3, arriving about 2:30 in the afternoon.  This was past the official cut-off time for that checkpoint, and I found out later the race officials had called my wife to find out where I was (that did not go over well), but I found a pay phone (sic) and called HQ.  The big problem was, the Everglades swamps end with a dam down in Flamingo, and I had to portage some 200 yards or so.  Sounds easy, but not after you just rowed your ass off to get there!  I emptied out my boat, removed the riggers, and attempted to lift what should have been 50 pounds.  No go.  A crow laughed at me, as he watched me struggle.  I tried again - got one end up in the air, only to have it crash back down.  The crow grabbed by baggie of energy bar wrappers, and gave a final laugh as he darted off with his prize.

 And then it dawned on me.  The bulkheads on the ends of the boat had filled with water!  I removed the drain plugs, and watched in disbelief as several gallons rushed out each end.  Easily 30 extra pounds I had carted through much of my journey!  After that, I was able to lift  the boat and balance it upside down on my head as I walked across the parking lot to the other side.  I narrowly missed a Mercedes since I could not see anything, but all's well that ends.  But of course it did not end.  I still had to make a half dozen trips to carry all my gear across, and then I had to carefully repack the boat.  Get water.  Grab an ice cream at the marina store.  And wait - no - it couldn't be - Dolphin Gal!  She came up to say Hi as she was just shoving off herself for the final run across Florida Bay!  Turns out she had not slept at all since passing me a few nights earlier, until arriving at this checkpoint in the early morning hours.  Now with a good sleep under her cap, she was off as the sun was setting.  I followed a half hour behind.

 Navigating Florida Bay is tricky in the day.  There are huge flats, areas that are so shallow they are dotted with dry sandbars at low tide and only a foot or two deep at high.  Narrow channels traverse these flats, twisty routes marked with PVC pipes by fishermen over the years.  At night, though, these become hard to see.  And if you are rowing backwards, at night, at low tide - well, good luck.  And so I went.  First careening out one side of the channel and a hundred yards onto the flats before realizing - then veering off out the other side.  Many times I found myself in water literally only an inch or two deep (the boat is flat-bottomed).  Sometimes I could "skip" my way across and back to the channel.  Other times I had to back it down the way I came.  Slow going.  But what an awesome night!  Crystal clear skies, more stars than you can imagine so many miles away from any city.  And like in the jungle, I had fun with my headlamp!  Huge schools of fish roamed those flats at night, and leapt in panic when my light hit them.  Sometimes about 12 inches long, probably Mullet and Seatrout.  But sometimes several feet long, surely Redfish and Snook.  And then I shone my light straight down, and saw why.  Tiny gold beads.  Eyes.  Eyes of shrimp. hiding in the grass.  Hundreds.  Thousands.  More!  What a night.

 I kept rowing, and finally cleared the flats, passing a couple of fishermen wading and presumably netting shrimp.  I headed Northeast towards Crocodile Dragover, hoping to avoid some of the wind that seemed to be starting to come up.  Plus, I had been there before, and now in the dark that seemed reassuring.  Four years earlier, I had been down this way camping and rowing in my same boat, although not in a race.  And for those of you who wonder what is in a name, I will tell you - when I got to my campsite that year, I found drag marks, claw imprints and tail imprints of a large (12'+) Crocodile where I was supposed to stay.  Needless to say, I acquiesced and rowed off to another bay, where I slept fitfully in my boat, wakening with every ripple of water.  So Crocodile Dragover has a special meaning to me.  But tonight, it was like an old friend.  Sort of.

 The Dragover is another twisty channel marked by PVC, albeit not quite so shallow.  I had seen sharks in it my last trip.  Florida Bay is known for being a breeding grounds for many sharks.  Tonight it became a breeding ground for confusion.  By this time, it was about 2 AM.  I had eaten no dinner, but had kept up with energy bars and beef jerky and so forth.  But 2 AM, been rowing since before 7 AM the morning before, and dying for coffee.  No beach in site to get out and boil some water.  And the radio tower with the red flashing light back at Flamingo, the one I had used as a navigation aid over my stern all night, was now obscured, sunk over the horizon.  I had my GPS, but that is good for telling you where you are, not so much where you are pointed.  Especially when you are going slow, looking around for channels and paddling in circles.  I had my iPad, in a LifeProof case (GREAT product), which gave a better picture of where I was, but still not perfect.  Stars were useful, but they kept moving.  Really, they did.  Finally I could see a reddish glow in the distance, the lights of Miami, and with that I managed to steer my way out of the maze.

By 3 AM I was in deeper water, and in the final stretch to Key Largo.  Still no place to pull over, I poured my Starbucks instant coffee mix into cold water, hoping for the best.  Awesome!  Should have thought of it hours earlier. At this hour on a cold evening, it was getting lonely so I turned on my VHF marine radio.  The weather report from Marathon Key played incessantly for the next 4 hours, but it kept me focused.  By now the wind was picking up, and hitting me broad-side.  And then it happened.  Wham.  As I was in the middle of my leg drive, moving the boat forcefully towards Key Largo, the wheels locked in the slides.  I went flying backwards off my seat, almost out into the bay.  I got back on my seat, took a few tentative strokes, and all seemed fine.  I woudl increase the power, and then - WHAM!  Again and again, forcing me to take light, wimpy strokes (I heard that!), making miserable progress.  Finally I realized hwat was happening.

Many months earlier, I had tried to use a "sliding rigger" system.  This type of rig keeps your seat stationary, and the rigger & oarlocks slide back and forth.  It is more efficient, since the body mass is in a relatively constant spot in the boat.  Back in the early 80's this equipment surfaced in world competition, and 2 years later it was outlawed when 7 of the top 8 finishers in singles sculling used this rig in their Empacher's.  For me, it held the promise of an easier row through the Everglades,  But anyway, the prototype made for me by Piantedosi kept binding up, much like my slide this night was jamming.  As I played around with that sliding rigger over the winter months, I finally abandoned it when I realized the slides were flexing, and not staying equi-distant apart.  So too tonight, my slides were flexing.  And this all traced back to that Day One incident, the one where I rowed straight into a piling.  By ripping a bracket from its mounting in the fiberglass hull, there was little to keep the rowing rig stable.  in the cross-wind, I was inadvertently pulling harder on my upwind oar, to keep the boat on course.  And in so doing, I was actually helping to twist the rowing rig, and causing the slides to meander - and the wheels to bind.  Of course actually doing anything about it was impossible, but at least now I understood.  So I would concentrate on pulling with the same force on each oar, and veer off course due to the wind, and stop & straighten out.  And so it went.

 Finally the sun rose, and I could make out the narrow pass between the two small islands that stood between me and Key Largo.  As I cut through them, I saw some sailboat masts on the other side, and was certain they were in the race.  So i poured it on, and rowed hard, knowing I was in the last 3 miles or so.  Of course, there were no sailboats.  But by now I had been rowing for 24 hours (except when I was portaging), and things don't always make sense.  For example, does it make any sense that in a journey of 300 miles, your GPS batteries crap out with 2 miles to go?  Of course not!  But it happens, and so you steal batteries from your flashlight because the last thing you want is for a party of people on the beach to be watching aa you blindly row up and down the coast looking for a tiny dock that marks the finish line.

 And then you make it.  You coast into the small sandy beach, and you step out.  You feel like an idiot, but nothing can stop that grin from breaking out, teeth shining bright in the Key Largo sunrise.  It matters not that there are dozens of boats already there.  It matters not that you have been up the entire night.  What matters is that you sat in the Marriott two miles down the beach, some four years earlier, and you said to no one there, "I am going to do that race."  And now, on your third attempt, there you are.

 

 

GREETINGS FROM THE VOGALONGA

Thomas Lubbig one of our past German summer resident a member of R&R sent this post along recently that I thought worth sharing on the blog. It go spme traction among the group so here is the original e-mail and the daisy chain that followed. BTW clink on this link www.vogalonga.com to see the action. It's incredible.

Dear Canottieri a Testa di Marmo

I am just back from the Vogalonga which is a unique rowing experience on open water: 30 kilometers around the Lagoon of Venice along with an incredible number of other rowers from around the world. There is a nice video on the website of www.vogalonga.com: With a lot of wind, my Mbhd acquired skills were put to good use. I was proudly wearing the RnR club hat when we were passing under the Rialto bridge.

Best regards

Thomas, Berlin (ex American sector)

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Great video, Thomas -- it looked absolutely chaotic!!

Hope you are doing well

Pal (from the early morning group)

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There were indeed some chaotic moments, the thing is that systemic chaos if properly implemented actually produces good results in that part of the world. We had a few gentle collisions which are kind of inevitable with the many bottlenecks on the tour especially on Canale Grande !

Best regards-Thomas

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Looks awesome!  It’s on my bucket list – and I’ve never had a bucket list before this moment!  Thomas, were you in a single?  Quad?  Thanks,  - Frank

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Andiamo, Tutti!!!  Next year????? LORETTA T. ATTARDO

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D'accordo!  Andiamo!-Gail Doyle

 

 

 

"THE UNKNOWN SHORE" By Elizabeth Clark Hardy

Sometimes at Eve the tide is low

I shall slip my moorings and sail away 

With no response to a friendly hail

In the silent hush of the twilight pale

When the night stoops down to embrace the day

And the voices call in the water's flow

Sometimes at a eve when the water is low

I shall slip my moorings and sail away.

Through purple shadows

That darkly trail o'er the ebbing tide

And the Unknown Sea.

And a ripple of waters' to tell the tale

Of lonely voyager sailing away

To mystic isles where at anchor lay 

The craft of those had sailed before

O'er the Unknown Sea to the Unknown Shore. 

A few who watched me sail away

Will miss my craft from the busy bay

Some friendly barques were anchored near

Some loving souls my heart hold dear

In silent sorrow will drop a tear

But I shall have peacefully furled my sail

In moorings sheltered from storm and gale 

And greeted friends who sailed before

O'er the Unknown Sea to the Unknown Shore

THE PASSING OF A PEACFUL WARRIOR

This past week the club lost one of its more colorful cast members with the passing of Art Capstaff. Those of us who knew him will treasure his memory for many years to come. Listed below is a daisy chain of e-mails that passed around when the news was shared.

Andrew Oliver-

Art has lost his battle after 2 1/2 years. He was determined that he would beat his cancer, but it was not to be. There will be a service this coming Saturday at  11 a.m. at Star of the Sea.

Here is the obituary in the Globe:
CAPSTAFF, Arthur Erikson Of Marblehead, MA, April 2013, after a two and a half year battle with cancer. Beloved husband of Diane Murphy Capstaff for 42 years; also leaves a loving sister-in-law, Joan Murphy Parkinson, 5 nephews and a niece plus 12 great nephews and nieces. His Funeral Mass will be held at Our Lady, Star of the Sea, 35 Atlantic Ave., Marblehead, MA on Saturday, April 20, 2013 at 11:00 AM. Relatives and friends are respectfully invited to attend. At the family's request, there are no visiting hours. Interment will be private. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Maine Coast Heritage Trust, 1 Bowdoin Mill Island, Suite 201, Topsham, ME 04086, (http://www.mcht.org) or The Island Institute, P.O. Box 648, 386 Main St., Rockland, Maine 04841. (http://www.islandinstitute.org) For online guest book or additional information, please call the Murphy Funeral Home, 85 Federal Street, Salem, MA 01970, 781.631.8885 or please visit: www.MurphyFuneralHome.com.
Pal B- Oh, thank you, Andrew.  He will be missed as both an intelligent and supportive rowing partner.

Sarah S- Our thoughts and prayers are with his family . We will miss his his enthusiasm  and his energy toward helping us be better and safer rowers.

Jay P- Thanks, Andrew. I am so sorry to learn this. I have lots of memories of Art, my favorite being the time he entered and completed the Marblehead race. He received his medal of participation and posed ferociously for a picture on the beach at Children’s Island, repeating so proudly to anyone within 50 yards that  it was the first athletic award he’d ever received. He was lit up like I’d never seen him before with his boyish enthusiasm for rowing that really never waned. He reminded  me of why I love it so. Later that year, when we talked about rowing from Marblehead  to Provincetown, he spent weeks excitedly thinking through  ways to refit his Hinckley (chase boat) to save us and our Echoes in every possible emergency.  Then about a year ago he asked if we could meet at the Landing to discuss a secret plan he had devised to beat his cancer. When we did, he declared that he wanted to row from Marblehead to Florida. He said that  in undertaking the trip he hoped its purposefulness and the hugeness of the challenge would make the cancer drop away. Then he said wistfully that if he died in the process, it would okay. It was an honorable way to go. He got too sick to actually undergo the row but I wouldn’t be surprised if he continued to plan it to the end. His deep love of the sea and of traversing it  in a shell represented a great part of Rock N Row. The club should officially honor him.  

 Andrew O-Jay - thank you for sharing this. These stories epitomize the essence of the man. He told me he had a 20 year plan once he had beaten the cancer. I don't think he allowed a negative thought to enter his mind

 

Emily G- Thank you for sharing the news, Andrew. It makes me so sad that we've lost such a wonderful club member, person and friend. His love for the sea and all related equipment was always evident. :-) I loved coaching Art, but my fondest memories are the emails I received  from him- more accurately correspondence. They have always been far and away my favorite. They were always so thoughtfully and kindly composed, endearingly riding the line between familiarity and formality, it was like receiving a letter from a far away friend.  He always made me smile.
His kindness, consideration and enthusiasm will be sorely missed, but I have to imagine he is sailing the high seas and happily tinkering away on some heavenly boat.

  

Tzivya S-I am sorry to hear this sad news. My thoughts and prayers are with Art's family and his many friends from the club.

Paul M-Just talked to Henry. Art wanted a Viking funeral. Lets talk about a fitting ceremony

Paul M-To all Art's rowing friends,

We have lost a dear friend and will look to honor him in true Rock&Row fashion, share your ideas please… Many of you have shared your memories, Emily's says it all for me:

"I loved coaching Art, but my fondest memories are the emails I received  from him- more accurately correspondence. They have always been far and away my favorite. They were always so thoughtfully and kindly composed, endearingly riding the line between familiarity and formality, it was like receiving a letter from a far away friend.  He always made me smile"

Sadly I last saw Art in the fall when he wanted to ERG again, he looked healthy and strong and determined to outlive his illness. I hope his final days were filled with love and peace.

Hope you will join us at his funeral Saturday, Star of the Sea 11AM. 

 

Sheila and Stan R- Please give Art's family our best wishes.  We saw Art the week before we left for our cruise and he looked great.  We are unable to attend the funeral as we just disembarked the cruise ship in San Diego and on our way to Hawaii to visit with our son and his family tomorrow.
 

Bobbie O- This is indeed sad news.  I had heard in church that Art was at Mass General.  I have many good memories of rowing with Art my first summer with the club.  He was always patient, and kind AND loved to talk with a twinkle in his eye about his grand vision of rowing to Cape Cod! I agree with Emily, I hope he is up in heaven tinkering with a boat and rowing through the waves!

 

Carmi P- Art was a great man, devoted husband and committed advocate for the safety of all who enjoyed boating and rowing the beautiful waters surrounding Marblehead. I consider myself fortunate to have been an acquaintance of such an honorable and kind man.

Gail Doyle-Sad news for sure.  Perhaps having an Annual Art Capstaff Memorial Row would be fitting...  To Provincetown

Karen P-Thoughts and prayers for Art and his family.

Loretta A-We will miss Art. Thoughts and prayers roll out on the waves to his family and friends.

Shannon T-Such sad news.  My thoughts and prayers are with Art and his family. 

Jack T-  I have always enjoyed this passage from the Hebrew Talmud and think it's very appropriate in describing Art.

In a harbor, two ships sailed: One setting forth on a voyage, the other coming home to port. Everyone cheered the ship going out, but the ship sailing in was scarcely noticed. To this, a wise man said: Do not rejoice over a ship setting out to sea, for you cannot know what terrible storms it may encounter, and what fearful dangers it may have to endure. Rather rejoice over the ship that has safely reached port and brings its passengers home to peace.

And this is the way of the world: When a child is born, all rejoice. When someone dies, all weep. We should do the opposite. For no one can tell what trails and travails awaits a new born child: But when a mortal dies in peace, we should all rejoice for he has completed a long journey, and there is no greater boon that to leave this world with the imperishable crown of a good name.

 

HISTORY OF OUR "BOATHOUSE" SUBMITTED BY CARLTON S.

I've been reading _Marblehead's First Harbor_, by Hugh Bishop and Brenda Bishop Booma.  It is a collection of short memoirs about growing up in and around Little Harbor and Barnegat, and about some of the colorful people that once called it home.

 
The book relates the story of James "Al" Graves, born in 1860, and coming of age at a time when dories were no longer used by the offshore fishermen, but still used by the lobstermen and increasingly rowed for racing and pleasure.

 Al Graves was one of those that grew up with rowing in his blood.  "Having been a rower for some time, the young Graves was not unaccustomed to making a day of rowing out around the Boston Lightship and back, a twenty mile trip from Marblehead Rock.  Another favorite destination was Manchester Harbor.  He sometimes continued past Gloucester, as far north as the coast of Maine.  A night on the beach was possible, but it was common practice to make a round-trip trek to Gloucester in the course of a day, another twenty-mile trip.  Like most athletes, he wanted to go faster and felt that he had the competence to build a better boat."

 The book later describes the scene that took place not far from where we now launch our boats:  "Al started construction on his dory in a small building [...] at the end of Cradleskid Lane.  His new design proved faster in the local competitions, and soon he was building similar models for the other racers".

 The Bishops go on to describe how Graves impressed Bowdoin Bradlee "B.B. Crowninshield" with his boatbuilding, and the partnership led to dozens of Crowninshield designs being built by Graves in the early decades of the 20th century.

 When I was growing up here, the yards now known as Marblehead Trading Company were still known as Graves Lower (Little Harbor) and Upper (Front Street) Yards.  The business was handed down through following generations.  Graves yards went on to build sailboats ranging from the 210's that used to dot the harbor, up to the 12-meter defender candidate Nefertiti.

For more on the history of Little Harbor: http://www.amazon.com/Marbleheads-First-Harbor-History-Fishing/dp/1609494970

 For another perspective on the Graves Yards, see the article that originally appeared in the short lived Marblehead Magazine: http://www.legendinc.com/Pages/MarbleheadNet/MM/Articles/GravesBoatyards.html

 

NEW ROWING SITE

Hi

Thanks for being involved in rowing (one of the best sports). If you don’t know who we are please allow me to make an introduction. Decent Rowing was started by my father Ken Davey and I (Lachlan Davey). I row at a state level and Ken coaches at an international level. Our aim is to create the most useful free rowing resource on the web. We have been hard at it for about 1 year and currently have over 2300 members enjoying our website for free.

 We want to provide our users with the world’s best rowing information. This is why we collaborate with great rowing role models including Olympic athletes and coaches, as well as inspirational team and club managers. Most of our information is in the form of short concise videos (I have a very short attention span).

 We have been given some great reviews including one from Rowing News Magazine and many from directors of rowing. Although many people have heard of us the majority don’t know who we are, what we do and what we believe in. Can you please help us? With your help we can provide your club or school with great free rowing information from some of the best minds in the business.

 We have a few places on the internet where we provide our free information:

 Our website: www.decentrowing.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/DecentRowing

YouTube: www.youtube.com/decentrowingdotcom

Twitter: www.twitter.com/DecentRowing

 Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any questions, our doors are always open metaphorically speaking :)

Thanks for making it through my message, hopefully we can repay you with a great rowing resource.

All the best

Lachlan

 

WHO'S UP FOR SOME BOWLING

Hey Maties-
If ye be feeling da mid-winter doldrums a-coming on, ye be needin' to partake in some spirit-lifting and challenge yer fellow maties ta knock over da candlepins.  We be a-meetin' on Wed., January 23 at 6:30pm at da Sunnyside Bowladrome in Danvers.  A mere $16 gets ya da lane, da shoes, da pizza and da sodas.  Ye be a-pullin' da extra coins from yer pocket fer da beer and da wine spirits.

What say ye - Yea? or Nay?  I be a needin' to know by the 15th.

Hope ta see ye knocking 'em down on the 23rd!
Gail

ROCK&ROW UPDATE JANUARY 6, 2013

Whether you’re ERGing mega meters or staring out the window waiting for spring we have turned the corner and days are getting longer. 

Probably a tad early to say “spring is around the corner” but a walk by Little harbor yesterday had me thinking, “Hmm, this could be a rowing day!”

I trust you all have seen the email sent 12/21 from Sheila/Stan with invoices and paperwork for 2013 membership renewal. 

Please send your dues payment to Jean before the Jan 15 due date so that we will know our member renewal status and can begin enrolling Newbies. 

We have a number of folks wanting to join. 

We have firmed up plans for an assistant rowing coach, Zoe Zimmerman, to provide Newbie orientation and instruction next season. A Cornell rower she is very excited to be part of the Rock & Row crew. 

If you look out my kitchen window you’ll see a Maas Aero nicely covered resting on stands. She is our newest club boat recently delivered from Florida where Chris L found her. 

Now shopping for additional shells and oars to upgrade our club inventory for next season. 

Sure am looking forward to the beginning of our rowing season, 

hope you all enjoyed the holidays, 

PAUL

El Presidente