Row The Dream Tour, 2006

 

            It’s not often that parents get a chance to follow in the footsteps of their children. And it’s with a great sense of pride in our offspring that we fully understand that even if we try to, we may never be as good as they are, nor may we ever match their accomplishments.

 

            With that in mind, my Alden Star double partner, Gary Jarvis, and I, decided in the early frigid months of 2006, we wanted to row on the same water our children have raced on. As well, it would be rewarding to row the waters where sport and history have combined.

Looking back on the Essex River

 

            If anyone had told me in 2001, at the age of 53, when I first took a Learn-to-Row course with 30 other novices that I would be attacking the Charles River in Boston or viewing the docks along Boathouse Row in Philadelphia from my own boat just five years later, at 58, I’d have called them crazy. And Gary, my marathon running, cigarette smoking 53-year-old partner, never rowed in a shell until just last September, and he’s coming along to join in the adventure too.

 

            Back in the 1990’s Gary’s son, Chris, stroked the Grimsby, Ontario secondary school heavyweight men’s four, while my daughter, Gillian, was the crew's coxswain. They won gold medals as Canadian Secondary School champions, and again at the famed Stotesbury Cup in Philadelphia. Chris went on to captain the Northeastern University crew, then to the Canadian National rowing team, winning several FISA World Cup events, and representing Canada in the Athens 2004 Olympics. We know we’ll never come close to reaching their medal count, but we’re going to give it a shot.

 

            The Essex River Race

The first leg of the Row The Dream Tour was like an appetizer, a month before the main course. We drove in mid-June to the Cape Ann area of Massachusetts. The Essex River race is a 5.5 mile course with a start and finish line at the Riverside Inn in Essex. Groups of similarly classed boats, like sliding seat racing shells, touring kayaks, fixed seat rowers and outriggers, head down the winding river through the marshes to Essex Bay, around Cross Island and back.

 

            Gary and I are in the first grouping, and unsure of the course, hold back at the start. Feeling confident, we begin overtaking the other boats in the first mile, and gradually build a 200-yard lead as we enter the open waters of the Essex Bay, en route to the island we must circumnavigate. At least, so we thought. Because it’s pouring rain, my glasses are fogged up, and we’ve never been here, we head for the wrong island. Looking back, we see the flotilla of other boats now heading in a different direction. Recognizing our ignorance, we turn to starboard, and have to zigzag through moored sailboats and buoys to make the 500-yard catch-up. We pass all but one other sliding seat double, that of Gary Piantedosi, a veteran of these New England regattas. For two-and-a-half miles, I keep Gary’s boat in the sights of my hat-clip mirror and we follow him around Cross Island, across the bay and back to the mouth of the Essex River. In an uncharacteristically competitive move on my part, I call on my own partner to overtake Piantedosi, with two sets of “hard fives” followed by upping our stroke rate from 24 strokes per minute to 28. We take the lead, and hold it for the final mile, looking back over the marsh at the other rowers, as we cross the finish line first overall. We enjoy chowder, chili and great conversation with everyone following the race in the historic Essex Shipbuilders’ Museum. We are presented with medals, and are sincerely welcomed as the lone Canadian crew. Loading the 29’ Alden Star on top of our 16’ Ford Focus wagon, we head back to home, thrilled with our results, and planning the return visit.

 

            The major tour will begin one month later on July 20th, so we have to ramp up our training. So far, we’ve been maxing out with daily six-to-ten mile pieces on the flat water of Jordan Harbor, in Vineland, Ontario. Now, we step it up, heading into the open waters of Lake Ontario. We start with six miles in choppy water, followed later by ten miles, and twelve miles in swells, and finally the 20-mile row to Grimsby and back. Our partnership in training has paid off, with endurance, timing, breathing, and rowing quality at its peak. We’re ready to take on New England again.

 

Gary, Andy and Greg on the Connecticut River

 

Connecticut River

It’s July 20th. After fully loading the Focus with rowing gear, hardware, oars, riggers, coolers, road maps and Mapquests, we head out on the first leg of our tour. Our first stop is at the Northampton, MA home of Andrew Larkin, a former Harvard rower, 1968 US Olympic eight rower, and often referred to as the “rowing guru of the Connecticut River.” Andy has personally rowed his Alden 18, 120 miles down the CT to Long Island Sound, camping out along the way. On this day, we row about 10 miles from Andy’s “Yankee Rowing Club.” As well as a myriad of interesting stories Andy has passed on to us, he gives out some worthwhile tips on our rowing style (“Loosely grip the oars….gather the water”), and our ensuing trip.

 

            Blackburn Challenge

Friday afternoon, after a brief visit to the Alden Rowing Shell factory in Rowley, MA to have a self-bailer fitted into the shell by Ed Jarvis, the company president, we arrive in Gloucester, the centuries- old fishing town, more recently featured in the movie “The Perfect Storm.” And yes, we most certainly did swing by the Crow’s Nest Tavern for a beer with the locals. Our mission is to race in Saturday’s “Blackburn Challenge”, a 20 mile race around Cape Ann.

 

            Thick fog delays the start of the race for over 220 boats in more than a dozen classes. After some difficulty launching the boat among the throng of shells, kayaks, and outriggers, we finally make it to the start line, only to find our grouping had been sent out three minutes earlier. Pressing hard in these unfamiliar waters, we catch up to others in the 3.5 miles of the Annisquam River, emptying into the Atlantic. All to no avail. With visibility reduced to a few hundred yards, the US Coast Guard cancels the race and sends everyone back. The months of training for the Blackburn leave an empty feeling in our gut.

 

            The day is not lost, however. Two hours later, an abbreviated seven-mile race up the river and back is scheduled to begin. This time, Gary and I are pumped. The Red Bull and Power Bar are kicking in. Undaunted by the winding river, now a little more familiar to us, we are overtaking coxed fours, other racing shells, even some six-man outriggers, while managing to avoid the countless sailboats and mooring buoys in the middle of this tidewater river. We emptied the tank on this race, giving it 100 per cent for 53 minutes, breath exploding from our lungs, legs aching at the finish, and finishing second in our division to well-known rowing shell designer and racer, Ted Van Dusen.

 

            Following the race, everyone gathers at Pavilion Beach for a party with music, chili, draft beer and pulled pork. Donna Lind and Tom Lawler really know how to run a regatta. We meet more interesting oarsmen and paddlers. Henry Szostek, a 6’10’ rower, has competed in all 20 Blackburn Challenges. Margo Pellegrino, a petite mother of two young children, plans next year to paddle her outrigger from Miami to Maine to bring awareness to the plight of the oceans and raise funds for the Surfrider Foundation. This race is a real character builder for open water rowers, and one we’ll definitely return to, for the sheer challenge of it.

 

                Charles River  

Sunday morning we leave Gloucester, energized not just from our thrilling Blackburn row, but two consecutive evening dinners at the Causeway Restaurant, where gargantuan dinners at low prices are notorious among the locals and tourists alike. At mid-morning, we arrive at Boston’s Charles River, well-known to rowers around the world. We put in at the free kayak dock, near the finish line of October’s Head of the Charles race. It’s an emotional moment for Gary. He has stood here before, watching his daughter, Steph, scull past here in that race. And his son, Chris, has several medals from here, and captained the Northeastern University rowing crew just a half mile upstream.

 

Boston University on the Charles River

                                   

Gary Jarvis at Northeastern's Boathouse

We row downstream past the venerable Harvard boathouse, and Boston University’s boathouse, the starting line. On a lark, we decide to time ourselves as if we were in the famous head race. Slowing through the flocks of swimming geese, following the wrong sides of the river, and missing the correct span of the Eliot Bridge, our time becomes irrelevant. We still pump our arms in the air at the finish, and casually paddle to Northeastern’s dock for Gary’s photo-op to show Chris.

 

               Thames River

Wasting no time, we exit Boston, bound for Connecticut and the Thames River. Andy Larkin had told us about a river where both Harvard and Yale owned boathouses, and had an annual race. After two hours of scouring the banks of the Thames, both south and north of the I-95, we locate both boathouses at Gael’s Ferry, both empty, and docks pulled out. The next morning, we find a murky lagoon that spills into the Thames with the tide, and we set out again. Rowing past these old New England style boathouses, we can imagine their annual race, charted by alumni following along in train cars on tracks that line each bank. Where history meets modern-day, downstream we come upon a nuclear submarine facility in Groton, home to the Nautilus museum. As a tugboat pulls back floating gates, exposing construction of new subs, we pause to take some digital photos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yale on the Thames

Very, very wrong decision. Within seconds, an armed police boat comes screaming to our starboard side, demanding we delete the photos and move on. It left quite a mental image at least, long after we had cartopped the boat and driven away.

 

            Schuylkill River

That evening, we arrived in Philadelphia, after an elongated drive across the I-95 and the George Washington Bridge. At the home of Jen and Peter Van Allen, we learn quickly how to pronounce the Schuylkill River as “the Scoocul.”

 

 

Greg, Gary and Peter at BoathouseRow

 

Rising at 5:45, Jen, a marathon runner, takes Gary on a 5.5 mile run along Kelly Drive, past Boathouse Row and up the steps of the Museum of Art, like Rocky. On his return, I have the boat rigged and we push off the Community dock, heading upstream. As we reach the apparent starting line for the 2K races we think back to 1998 when our children won the Stotesbury Cup from this very point. Once again, we decide to time ourselves over 2000 meters, in their same Lane 3. And like two days earlier, the time is unremarkable. However, there was some smug joy in catching up to Peter, our host, in his sleek racing single.

            Further down, we dock at the Malta Rowing Club on Boathouse Row, and take a tour of this grand clubhouse with its trophy-filled cabinets and racks of storied shells. This trip so far has changed us. Where two months ago we may have felt intimidated in the presence of such athletic history, we now feel a sense of belonging, deserving the camaraderie of fellow rowers. Looking back on the magnificence of Boathouse Row as we paddle back to our own dock, we appreciate this sport even more than ever.

 

The Potomac  

It’s not a long drive from Philadelphia to Washington, and we arrive in mid-afternoon at the Thompson Boat Center, next to the Watergate Hotel and Kennedy Center. Here, we meet Lisa Goulet, an architect who owns an Alden 16. Lisa is a transplanted Hurricane Katrina victim, who lost everything she owned in the hurricane flood, except for her Alden shell that survived being strapped down as the water rose eight feet. 

 

            We row a couple of miles to the west, away from the monuments, as it’s over 90°, and it’s our second time on the water that day. Next morning, however, we return to the Potomac after a harrowing drive through Arlington, into Washington and Georgetown’s narrow streets at 9:00 a.m., with the 29’ boat strapped to the top of the Focus, seemingly aimed at every cornered pedestrian.

 

Lisa Goulet on the Potomac River

             

            On yet another scorching morning, we set out to the east, toward the Anacostia River. Huge airliners are just barely overhead on their descent into Reagan Airport. I can’t forget that vivid 1982 image of the heroic, icy-water rescue of passengers after an Air Florida jet crashed into the 14th Street Bridge, just above us. Across the river, we see the steps at the Lincoln Memorial, with the Washington Monument and Capitol Building behind. But our main focus here is rowing, like it has been all week. Lisa’s first two days in her boat have created huge blisters on her hands, trying to keep up with our double, and our hands have become double callused over three months. We are proud of them. They display the hours of practice we have put in. They also display a poor style of gripping our oars. If only we’d met Andrew Larkin earlier. Add a few more commemorative T-shirts to our collection, and off we go again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Donahue Rowing Centre, Lake Quinsigamond

  

Lake Quinsigamond

After a seven hour drive back to Worcester, MA, and a good night’s rest, we arrive Thursday morning at the Donahue Rowing Center on “Lake Quinsig”, which, in 2005, hosted the US Masters Rowing Championships. This beautiful, well-protected lake, with a smattering of islands, narrows, and bays, was carved out of the rock by Ice Age glaciers. Anita Wos, owner of “The Art of Rowing” has agreed to take time away from her art gallery and rowing art mail-order business, to guide us along the course.  We row the 3.3 mile length and, on our way back, to beat the heat, we beach the boats and swim in the refreshing and pristine lake water. Before hitting the road again, we visit Anita’s charming gallery, a testament to the spirit and love she has for the sport.  Naturally, we pick up a few more mementos to treasure later.

            

The Isles of Shoals Race 

The Alden Ocean Shell Association is an organization of recreational rowers, formerly exclusive to Alden boat owners, the vanguard of recreational rowing - but now open to owners of similar open-water boats like Echo and WinTech. Each year, the AOSA holds races for its members, and the Isles of Shoals race at Kittery Point, Maine, is its greatest challenge.

 

Our 29’ Alden Star double is excluded from this race because, in the event a mid-ocean rescue is required (Hah!), it’s too long for the chase boats. Stopping in at Bill Graham’s Rowing Sport in Ipswich, MA, we borrow an Alden 18’ Ocean Shell. Never having rowed this model before, or ever having been out in the open ocean, we figure a trial run is definitely in order.

 

Launching at Isles of Shoals race

Load the shell on the car, drive through New Hampshire into Maine, to Kittery Point, where Fort Foster is our next destination.           

 

            The Alden Ocean Shell is the ideal boat for the 3’-4’ swells we encounter as we head out into the Atlantic. The next day’s race will be 7.2 miles to Gosport Harbor in the Isles of Shoals. Unfortunately, our practice is cut short as my starboard oar snaps off at the blade during one of more strenuous pieces, about one and a half miles from shore. Gary rows us in, and I’ll make the two hour round trip back to Rowley to pick up a new one.

 

            Saturday morning and it’s race day. At least 30 cars, vans, and trucks line up before 7:00 a.m. at the Fort Foster gates, awaiting entry. It’s a rush to the beach, and everyone’s boat is rigged and ready by the captain’s meeting at 7:30. The race starts at 8:00 sharp, with three groupings of boats leaving in five-minute intervals. We’re in the last.

 

            As we emerge from the picturesque cove, passing the old pier, rounding the lighthouse island, it suddenly dawns on us. We have seven miles to row, in swells approaching three feet, to an island that we can't’ see from our low setting, in a boat we’ve never seen before yesterday, and to top it off, we’re traversing water completely dotted with lobster traps and floating buoys. It’s a minefield out here. Initially trying to avoid them results in losing ground to other boats, so we decide to crash right into any buoy in our way. Only two actually catch the riggers so tightly, we narrowly escape flipping over. At times, we break into uncontrollable laughter wondering what on earth possessed us to take on this challenging race.

 

 

Medal Winners at IOS

 

            Again, not knowing the way, following the wrong boats, and being cut off by a huge sailboat under motor power, all combine to separate us from our old nemesis, Gary Piantedosi, who we had hoped to use as our guide once again. Just over an hour later, what we believe is the finish line is in sight. Even as we round Appledore Island, we are sure it’s right there. Then realizing we’ve gone another couple hundred yards out of our way, we turn toward Smuttynose Island. (I’m not making this up. It’s New England, remember) One hour and ten minutes. Not great, not bad, but good enough to be the fastest Alden men’s double, in a medal winning performance. We hitch a ride back on a chase boat with our Alden 18 aboard. Next time around, we’ll do the macho thing and row back the 7.2 miles. At the awards lunch, we sit with some fantastic people, these open water, long distance rowers, like Marjorie Burgard, whose first husband Arthur Martin founded and owned the Alden rowing shell company until his death, and Hargreaves Heap III. At 70, Hargy gets a silver cup, promising to retire after 39 consecutive IOS races, but everyone expects he’ll be back again next year. And to top it off, the AOSA has provided us with a lovely picnic lunch including lobster rolls and a sing-along.

 

            This is our tenth day away, and by the time we arrive home in Grimsby, Ontario, at midnight, we have traveled a total of 2603 miles, crossed a state border 19 times, and can’t imagine how many miles we have rowed. But we have rowed the dream. And I am a dreamer, so where will the next one take me.

 

            On behalf of my partner Gary, I’d like to give special thanks to all those fine people who put us up, or put up with us; Donna and Dave Lind, Andy Larkin, Jen and Peter Van Allen, Lisa Goulet, Anita Wos, Bill and Debbie Graham, Ed and Ryan Jarvis at Alden, Paula and Ron Ledgett, and the friendly members of the Alden Ocean Shell Association. Great meeting everyone. Who needs flat water.

 

 

Greg Parker