The Seven Wonders of the Dutch rowing World

The Netherlands is a short flight from the southern UK and their weather is similar to ours, but their rowing clubs are practically on a different planet.

Last weekend, I went on an informal 29km rowing tour there with Dutch friends, followed by a conference on touring rowing (organised by Toer!) the next day in Amsterdam, and was bowled over by what I found.

Wonder Number 1. Soft cushions!
We were the guests of a member of Baarn watersports club on the river Eem, south-east of Amsterdam. As you often find on the continent, there was a special cushion for the coxing seat of our touring coxed quad. So far so nicely organised.

But this club had taken the concept to a new level with monogramed embroidery: you cant quite see it in this photo, but the orange line of characters on the right are the Club name, and the small group in the top left are the boat name (so you dont accidentally take the wrong cushion for your boat – perish the thought).

Its kinda, "If Charles Tyrwhitt did boat cushions..."

Wonder Number 2: Rowing into a gallery
Anyway, we set off, and had a pleasant row past many fields to  the small town of Amersfoort, which mixes well-kept old buildings, with the most modern of modern architecture, and a great deal of "art" scattered all over the place.

This must be "art".
Not a clue what else it could be...

There was even a chandelier under the railway bridge. The perfect lighting if you were having a floating dinner party, I guess. Though possibly only for people using sign language, given the rumble of trains overhead.

Wonder number 3: The longest boathouse

Paddling back out of town, we stopped off at Hemus rowing clubs brand new home, which is, without doubt, the most spacious boathouse Ive ever seen (with the possible exception of Northeastern in Boston). 

Boats, almost as far as the eye can see.
Note also (OK, with a magnifying glass) the standard arrangement of a touring boat on the floor at the bottom of every rack, with fine boats above.
That, people, is how many touring boats the average Dutch club has. Wow OH wow.

The full length boat bays had no fewer then FOUR racks of boats along them (OK, not all VIIIs, but there were some), with copious spacing above each boat. You know how clothes are displayed in the windows of smart boutiques: a choice piece, carefully arranged on its own against complimentary surrounding. And you know how your rowing kit is stuffed into a big bag. Well, there you have Hemus rowing club compared with your average boathouse: a sort of zen of boat racking. You can just feel the calm, cant you?

As you might expect, there was also a massive bike park and a complete lack of car park, and to my utter astonishment, a sedum roof. Not sure what else I can say about that, other than !. And !!

But then the next day, I found another sedum roof at RIC in Amsterdam (I did take a photo, but once youve seen one picture of a boathouse with a sedum roof, youve seen em all) so, based on a sample size of three, I concluded that around 67% of Dutch boathouses have sedum roofs. I wonder if there are any in the UK? 

Wonder Number 5: No soggy towels, thanks, were Dutch!
Amidst such shiny new-ness, I was reassured to see that the club had clearly brought one thing from their previous shed: the obligatory 1950s mangle that I have observed in almost all Dutch rowing clubs, for wringing out the boat-wiping towels (where do they GET them from?).

Incidentally, when I say "almost all" clubs have these, the club back in Baarn where we started didnt have a mangle but had hurtled recklessly into the 21st century and had a dedicated boat-towel washing machine. Shocking stuff.

Wonder Number 6: What goes on Tour...

What goes on tour are Dutch rowers apparently. Big time. All the clubs I visited had a Tour Calendar on their club noticeboard, listing at least 12 events for the season, and I discovered that every club has a Touring Committee. A permanent group dedicated to organising tours (plural). Perhaps I should emigrate?

Wonder Number 7: Expressing rowing through the medium of...

When youve rowed for as long as I have, youve generally seen it all in terms of rowing lifestyle accessories: paintings, mugs, boxer shorts, ornaments, you know the kind of thing. But at RIC I found some novel ways of bringing rowing indoors. First, perfectly supporting Dutch stereotypes about painted tiles, the youth section had produced a set of decorated rowing tiles in the clubs orange and black colours:

The river was mapped on one of the bars coffee tables in inlaid marquetry (you cant see it in the photo blow, but bridges and locks were marked):

And finally, a highly creative member had expressed a tour route in the medium of tapestry:

Thats it for wonders, but like the sprinkles on your cupcake, heres a final fascinating fact pertaining to the social history of rowing. British rowers are well aware that  rowing use to have an obsession with "amateur" status, and the fact that (back in the day) it might only be done by "gentlemen". This led to the founding of clubs like Thames Tradesmen Rowing Club, whose members were barred from joining some of the amateur" clubs because their work involved a physical element. Rowing clubs in Amsterdam, however, followed different social divisions, with RIC having its origins as the Catholic rowing club (I gather that sectarian divisions ran as deep as British class divisions, till even more recently, not just with separate Catholic and Protestant schools but also hospitals, political parties and even TV channels). Apparently another club had originally been Jewish.

Photos: Martin Paasman and Helena Smalman-Smith.

The Grasshopper Book of Expedition Rowing

For those of us who grew up in English-speaking homes in the 1960s and 70s, long before the days of Wikipedia, our early education was shaped by Ladybird Books.

Extraordinarily, despite covering an extremely broad range of topics from Your Body, to Baby Jesus, via Ballet and The Beach (to name but four that I remember owning), there was never a Ladybird Book of Expedition Rowing.

There still isnt, but this is what one might have looked like. Particularly if their illustration department had been on strike.


Jane is an expedition rower. This means she likes to row long distances in new places.

She’s been on rowing expeditions in many different countries. Last year, she went on a long row in the Netherlands. She and her friends saw a windmill.

When she went on a rowing expedition in the south of France, the organisers expected her crew to drink two bottles of red wine at lunchtime. This is because the rowing tour was also a cultural experience.

Expedition rowers need to eat whenever they can. This is because rowing burns up a lot of calories. If they don’t eat enough, they become grumpy, say mean things to their crewmates and make poor decisions. That’s not good.

Jane always takes Jelly Babies with her on expedition rows. She shares them with the others. Recently she learned that the fourth Dr Who did this too, and she wonders if people think she’s channeling Tom Baker.

After you’ve rowing for several hours, you arse hurts. But Jane uses a special cushion called a “seat pad”, which delays the onset of the pain, and reduces it. In fact, she usually uses two. “Any idiot can be uncomfortable”, Jane laughs.

Expedition rowers just “shut up and row”. They don’t moan when their arses hurt. Or their hands, wrists, or backs. Anyone who complains doesn’t get invited again.

Expedition rowing boats are usually coxed. The cox is the person who steers the boat whilst the others row. The crew members take turns to cox.

Whilst they are steering, they usually also have to read the map, give information about how far into their stint they are, motivate the crew, eat, tape up their hands, take photos, and have a wee wee.

Coxes need to be good at multi-tasking!

Many rowing expeditions need a “land team”. This is a glamorous term for the poor bugger who has to drive the boat trailer from the start to the finish, whilst everyone else has fun rowing. Jane often appoints her boyfriend, Peter, to be “Land Team Manager”. The role is a functional one: there isn’t actually anyone else in this team.

He can track their progress on Yellowbrick. This helps him work out whether he’s got time to pop to the chippie before they get in. He can’t go to the pub, because he’s got to drive the darn boat home. Peter wonders if he should take up rowing.

If you think Janes hobby sounds super fun, and youd like to try expedition rowing yourself, visit www.PaddleducksRowing.co.uk.