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.

BILTrek2012!

Ahoy Mateys!  

In the grand tradition of VisionQuest/ManQuest2010 (here and here), and BroVenture2011 (Days 1+2 and 3+4), I bring to you BIL(brother-in-law)Trek2012!

IAZ,P, myself, and my brother-in-law Count Gregoire de Frontenac boldly drove forth to the wonderful world of Blue Hill Bay, Maine.

Count Gregoire de Frontenac

We went to Brooklin, to be exact, to enjoy a leisurely circumnavigation of Swan Island with some potential exploring in the Deer Isle Thoroughfare.  I promised Gregoire bald eagles and starry nights, fast heart-pounding broad reaches, and leathery tanned skin!  I promised adventure and riches and a story to last a lifetime.  I promised a Goat Island Skiff experience, an IAZ,P adventure!

What I neglected to promise Count Gregoire de Frontenac, however, was the glories of a gigantic low pressure system that was going to park itself over Maine for two days.  Oops.  So much for my budding meteorological skills.

"Hi, my name is Mr. Twirly and Im going to rain on your parade, you buffoon."

A few disclaimers.  We spent our time on privately-owned islands along the Maine Island Trail that are available to MITA members and described in the guidebook.  It is requested to not publicly blather about such islands with respect to the islandowner.  I will honor this request.  As I have a done before and will do now, I highly encourage the intrepid reader who is interested in these waters to become a member at MITA.  It is not expensive and it pays for itself immediately.  It is a worthy organization for a worthy cause.

I present, with humbleness, BILTrek2012:

Peace.  Notice lack of houses anywhere.  Quiet.

Fickle winds started us off the public launch at Brooklin.  I carefully ghosted out of the harbor, and once out in the bay we started to scoot along-- just barely.  The boat was heavily laden with the two of us, gear, food, and water for five days and winds ere light.  We made good time, all things considered to our first island.  That was the last of the sun.  In came the fog.

15 minutes later after "peace."  No joke.

After dinner, we went to bed.  Around midnight, it started to rain.

And rain.

And rain.

Out came the WX radio.  Thunderstorms on their way.  Flashes through the tent.  2-3" of rain per hour.   Rumbles in the distance.  I struck IAZ,Ps mast/lightning rod.  Flash flood watches throughout Maine.  The wind came up and started folding over Count Gregoire de Frontenacs tent.  My tent was in the lee, so I thought it was quite peaceful.  We skippers need to stay well rested and dry to make good decisions.

Gregoires tent blowing in from the wind.  Wet.  Rain seeping through the seams.

IAZ,P with mast down

Stoic Captain...?  Feelings of foolishness lurking underneath stone cold face.

By the next morning Count Gregoire de Frontenac started to complain that his sleeping bag was sponging rain water that had finally started to work itself through the saturated seams of his tent.  The weather forecast was calling for continued heavy rain the entire second day.  There was going to be no hope of drying out for at least another 24 hours, and who knew what would come next.  We were exposed.  There were multiple factors to take into account, but most signs were pointing to an easy escape or a hard and cold and wet day.  With the fog lifted for a few minutes, I took a compass bearing towards Brooklin and we rapidly broke down the tent, and sailed back to the boat ramp.

We had a good wind pushing us along, and we passed some lobstermen who gave us energetic waves and smiles as we blew through some chop in the pouring rain.  To them we probably looked like we were off on an adventure as opposed to turning back around...  I waved back.  Lobstermen in Maine have always waved at IAZ,P.  Better keep up the impression that we are a salty bunch too.

Romantic second night camping location.  IAZ,P loved this. (sarcasm)  Count Gregoire de Frontenac observing.

Drying tents.  Why not?

Camping in a hotel room.  Talk about sand and wetness.  That chart book?  Pissing water.

On day three with improving skies, we drove back to Brooklin, to start again!

This is a historic picture for blatantly obvious reasons.  Take note.

We repeated the loading of IAZ,P for the second time in as many days, and sailed forth!

This is the "all-tides" gravel ramp at Brooklin.
My compact 2W sedan is not going to make it back up this at low tide.
Note fenders for rolling IAZ,P down to the water after pushing her off the trailer.
World-famous Eggomoggin Reach in the background.

Sailing out.  Cute Maine Island.  What dangers lurk around its waters?

Count Gregoire de Frontenac navigating and keeping us safe from said dangers.

I just like this island.

I had a plan, and that was to head to a supposed Island of Paradise and salvage what we could of our trip.  We didnt know what we were going to find.  We didnt know if it was going to work.  We didnt know if people would already be camped in its limited space.

And then, we turned to the corner into the small harbor.

Thats right.

Splashing into the crystal clear water on the beach, we decided that there was no further reason for exploration anywhere else.  Day three was henceforth spent relaxing in the sun warmed harbor, circumnavigating the island at low tide, and napping.

Camp.  Gregoire up on the hill, Im closer to the boat.

Count Gregoire de Frontenac posing with IAZ,P

View

Trees and what-was-once-tree communing

Count Gregoire de Frontenac bathing.  This aint no damp breezy castle no mores, this be real saltiness!

The beach/bathtub dries out

Further and further the water falls

Officially stuck for the night.  Were not going anywhere for another 6hrs at least.  And then it will be dark.

Legal fire below high-tide mark

The night went smooth.  A few showers passed, but nothing of any consequence.  The bioluminescence was spectacular. The next morning, however, dawned with calm/calm/calm winds and an overcast.  The tide was on the flood, and I wanted to be sure to meet it as soon as possible and make the most of it, because there would be no sailing that day, and it would be a long row back to the car.

Calm and mist.  Woe.

Waiting for the tide

It was a long row back to the car, and a longer ride back home.  BILTrek did not have booming reaches, midnight collisions with rocks, spirited discussions about spear-gun safety, anchors lost overboard, or encounters with sirens.  However, we had a decent relaxing time, saw WoodenBoat, and discovered an absolute gem of an island for future visitation.  Every trip with IAZ,P brings something different, why not some relax for once?

Fair winds, intrepid reader.