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By Wendin Smith (MALD '00) Rowing is a hard sport for spectators to enjoy, and even harder to explain. I'll do my best in this article to give you a taste of the ecstasy of feeling the bow sluice through the water, and of the shivers that one feels while stroking, inch by inch, past another crew. But it won't be easy--it's like trying to explain that peculiar smell of your grandmother's kitchen.
I am a proud starboard and a wishful sculler, and, indeed, was a college freshman fully intending to play basketball when first infected with the passion to row. You are no doubt all familiar with the legendary coxswain (pronounced cox-in)--the person responsible for steering the boat, commanding the rowers so that motions are uniform, and, most importantly, motivating the athletes. Just in case I haven't mentioned it, the coxswain does not yell, "Stroke . . .Stroke. . .Stroke." No, not ever. Need proof? You can now listen to one of the most famous coxswains, Pete Cipollone, through an entire race at www.row2k.com. I'll buy you each a beer for every time Pete even mumbles the word "stroke." Most collegiate teams are only involved in sweep rowing, where nine rowers--four ports, four starboards, and one coxswain--speed an "eight" down the river or across a lake. Some crews also row "fours," which have four rowers and a coxswain. The joy of sculling is that since each rower has two oars, it is possible to scull alone in a single. There is always the option of taking a romantic cruise with just one other rower in a double skull. None of the sculling boats have a coxswain, so the rower in the bow is responsible for steering and calling the commands. On to the Head of the Charles. First of all, the Charles is not the only river with a head race. There is the Head of the Connecticut, the Head of the Textile, the Head of the Schuylkill and many others. But the Head of the Charles, which is held every year during the last weekend in October, is the one that really counts. For those of you who came to watch on Saturday the 23rd, these were Club events for sweep rowing only--in eights and fours. Sunday boasts the sculling events, as well as the Championship sweep and sculling events in which 18 national teams row against some of the best college teams in North America. Training for the Head of the Charles focuses on endurance and strength. The autumn head races, unlike the mile-long spring sprint races, last for a long and arduous three or more miles. The 33 women in the Riverside Master's Program have professional careers, except for two of us crazed fools who are pursuing graduate degrees (a woman enrolled in Harvard's Landscape Architecture program, and me at Fletcher). We row together just three times weekly in the evenings, doing drill work and long-distance rows.
The other primary part of training is competing with one another. Although there are 33 women in my program, limited entries mean that only eight of us were able to compete for Riverside in the Head of the Charles. The coach must decide who will row in the top boat based on three main components: technique, power, and ability to make a boat move. Technique is judged by watching and drilling. Power is judged by a test worse than even Fletcher could concoct--a 5,000-meter race on the ergometer, or rowing machine, which we fondly call the "erg." The faster the time, the stronger you are. Finally, the ability to move the boat is measured by yet another method of torture known as the seat race. Essentially, these consist of races between two boats, where the coach switches just two rowers after a series of short races. Measuring the difference in margin between the boats permits the coach to roughly determine the stronger rower. Riverside is incredibly lucky to have a team composed of many talented rowers--the depth and strength of the whole team makes each individual stronger. And it makes you work hard to "keep your seat"! The complexity of the course and the armada of boats makes the Head of the Charles unique. I would venture a guess that if any of you stood anywhere near a bridge for any length of time during the event, you saw a terrific boat crash. Charles' course is in fact quite difficult to steer, especially for coxswains lacking the home-course advantage. At the Weeks Footbridge and around the Anderson bridge, the sharp turn requires the starboards (that's me!) to turn on the power to help the coxswain take a tight turn. The coxswains that miss the turn hit the bridge. Those that miss the turn and somehow also miss the bridge inevitably end up at strange angles across the river, and are subsequently speared by oncoming crews who don't want to waste time waiting for wayward coxswains to steer their way out of a mess. In our Club Eight event there are 75 boats of approximately 60 feet in length each, the river jams can be catastrophic. There are some excellent snapshots of such catastrophes available at www.row2k.com/hotc/chuckyarns/shtml. The art, then, to Riverside's winning its Head of the Charles consists of three essential components and one secret weapon. The essentials are strong and smooth rowers, the most precise and aggressive coxswain, and Neptune's blessing. The secret weapon? (Just don't tell Professors Shultz or Pfaltzgraff!) Fletcher and Riverside fans yelling loudly from as many points along the Charles as possible. The fastest crews don't always win the Head of the Charles--except for this year, of course, when our boat was victorious! You can check out Head of the Charles events, race results, course, rules, and anything else that intrigues you at www.HOCR.org.
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