“You say you want a revolution….”

The Beatles tune came out of the speakers right after Dan gave the awards for the Jamestown Counter Revolution. This was the second JCR, but the first one to run on the intended course, 15 miles halfway around the northern half of Jamestown Island, counterclockwise, naturally. It’s called Jamestown, but it’s officially Conanicut Island. It is in Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island.

The first JCR was pushed upriver by hurricane Danny. This year Dan was hurricane watching pre-race as hurricane Danielle formed out in the Atlantic. Seemed like bit of a repeat bad joke. Dan found more to be concerned about then to be amused by.

Fortunately, Danielle never made her presence known. It was a Class A day for this rowing and paddling event. The number of sliding seat open water boats rivaled the Blackburn. I saw six Peinert Zephyrs lined up on the beach, right next to each other, and there were at least another two at the race. There were 14 Open Water Class II over 21 foot 1x sliding seaters, mostly Peinert Dolphins like mine. This, and last year, has to be the most Dolphins ever raced at once. Narragansett Rowing Club, with Dan Gorriaran, runs this young and growing regatta. They have a tough bunch of open water rowers, and tough flat water rowers inspired or cajoled into open water occasionally.

The surfskis had a good contingent and the OC’s and Sea Kayaks were pretty well represented. Some of my growing list of surfski friends were there. Wesley, Chris, Bob and Simon among them. Simon Ross I had met at the Milford OC-1 Race in Milford. Simon had a first place in Milford and, I will jump ahead here, a first place in Jamestown.

Talking with some rowers after the awards, someone asked me “Where did he come from?” “New Zealand or somewhere” I said. I had forgotten that he is from South Africa. One of the things I loved about open water is the diversity that goes with it. I see growing respect between the rowing and paddling crowds for the athleticism of the other.

“Oh, that’s a camera Wes is pointing at me!”
Before the start in Mackerel Cove – photo by Wesley Echols

“Holy Mackerel Cove Batman, what a start!” There were 65 boats lined up on the starting line in Mackerel Cove.

“Rowers to the left, paddlers to the right” said Dan at the Captain’s meeting.

I guess I didn’t really need to ask “Dan, right and left from where?” My ears always perk up when I hear right and left at regattas. Facing backwards, my left can be your right. (If you are a forward facing type).

I lined up behind a couple of the Maas Doubles. Friend Bill Pritchett and Andy Washburn were in one of them. I knew they wouldn’t be slowing me down any. Figured they would clear a path for me.

“Hooooonnnkkkk” The one long blast we were waiting for. Now we could start having our one long blast racing around Jamestown. They got some great video of the start, and other parts of the race as well. Probably you can google it up if you want.

I heard of at least one close encounter of the slight bumping kind, but for the amount of boats headed for the same point, (point in two senses of the word), we were pretty well controlled. I was moving pretty well, 3 minutes at a high rate like everyone, then dropping to a more sustainable effort. Many boats were ahead of me after the mile getting out of the cove. Still more were behind. I rowed for a minute beside Gia DeAngelis in her last minute borrowed Dolphin. Gia pulls ahead, not to be seen until its back on the beach time. Gia had been looking for a double for the race. She thought she had one lined up, but I pointed out in an email that “Peinert doesn’t make a double; there must be some confusion somewhere.” She thanked me for not coming up with her doubles partner and finding a single waiting for them!

Another mile and we are going on the inside of “the Big Rock”. I considered taking the outside here because lots of boats were funneling into the gap between Big Rock and shore. As I got closer, it looked OK, So a few harder pulls on my starboard oar and I headed into the gap. I hear Dan G was close enough to that rock that his starboard blade scraped. Soon after Big Rock was “Rock with a House On It”. Quite a sight, this jagged rock with a house with almost the same footprint sitting atop it.

The course went outside of The Rock with a House On It. At some little time after this, I looked behind me to spot Bill Russell up ahead. Off to the bridge. A woman rower seemed to be gaining on me. I kept an eye on her. I felt good here. For a calm day, we found more chop out here then expected. I was not moving real fast, but steady. Conditions seemed to smooth out some and my boat run and speed edged up. There were spots I felt some small help from following sea off the starboard stern quarter. I followed my gps course under the bridge. Bill picked another bridge span he had decided on the day before. He had been out in a powerboat with his brother, checking his waypoints. I had the better course. By the other side of the bridge I was getting ahead of Bill, and the woman 1x that been gaining “ground” in the more squirrelly water.

I noticed Bill had stopped. Hydrating, I wondered? Or problems with his shoulders that have been acting up? Turns out he was wondering if his shoulders were going to keep up with the rest of his body. Masters Athletes, we may be in shape, but we are prone to more aches and ills then we used to. Bill shouldn’t have been moving that furniture the week before!

I started catching up to a yellow OC-1. That was Will, whom Bill and I raced and met at the Milford, CT OC-1 Championship race. Bill and I were the only rowers in that race. In Milford, at the 2/3 point of the race, it was me, Will, and then Bill. Soon it was me, Will, and Bill at the JCR. It can be nice to have someone around your own speed to help keep your pace.

We were nearing the point of the Island. I had had a comfortable lead on Bill for a while. I noticed now he was closing the gap. I stopped to hydrate and splash my hands into the water so I could get a better grip. Better to stop while I had some distance on Bill. Will was mostly behind me now, or sometimes even with me.

Bill was definitely picking up the pace. The water was better, I picked it up too. There was an official boat, taking numbers and positioned to keep us off rocks. Bill was gaining, then he was surprised by the boat and had to change course abruptly. I picked it up more, still feeling pretty good. I didn’t want Bill within striking range.

I had been somewhat puzzled back when Bill slowed and I put a good gap between us. Now I was puzzled that he had picked up the pace again and was closing. Guess he decided his master’s rower’s shoulders could take the strain.

OK, this is getting serious, looks like Bill is making a move. Don’t let him get ahead I’m thinking, that’ll be that. I’d likely not see him behind me again if that happened. In my training, I do “acceleration fifteens” sometimes. Five strokes building to a power ten. Intended as a passing strategy, or, as in this case, to keep from being passed. This happened four times. I was holding up OK, but so was Bill. Will dropped back a boat length.
I wondered how long I could hold out. I wasn’t dying yet. I thought I could hold this pace for a while. Let’s just see. I was worried I would need to hydrate and that would blow my lead.

I was keeping a close eye on Bill off my port stern. He had been within a half boat length. Now maybe two lengths.

Flash- out of the corner of my left eye I saw white. Oh buoy! Slap, clack, crink, the sound of oars and rigging slapping buoys and lines. Then- Thunkk, slumpff, slush, scraffe. I discover a 19 foot powerboat attached to that mooring buoy. I slide my bow under its bow. A low impact collision of the sliding kind. An in water maneuver that may be studied in the future by NASA to facilitate space docking protocols.

“Fudge, foot, fooey” I exclaim. Three feet of my boat is where it shouldn’t be. I back with my oars. I slide the bow out a foot. Then another foot. Then- heh- I’m not sliding out anymore. I’m hung up. Caught by the bow ball under a chine I figure.

Soon I have an interested audience, Will and Bill. They took a time out to see what the heck I was doing.
“Yea, I’m Ok, I’m stuck. Frak, Freek.” I backed on starboard only, twisting my shell, hopefully out from under. Two oars jamming backward. “Fwat” I spit out. I twist the boat around some more.

“Do you need me to pull you out?” said Will

“I think if I get headed with the current, I can pop it out” More backing with starboard only. Then I make a big effort with two blades. Pop, surge, bounce, I’m free at last! My boat bucks up like a big fish had rammed under my stern. My body flails, but I stay upright.

“Thanks guys, I’m good” Bill and Will hit the water with blade and paddle.

I’m off. Off kilter, and off my groove. Well no damage anyway. Maybe a little sleek in the bottom paint of that powerboat, about like running over a lobster pot buoy I figure. My will power is damaged. Will and Bill power were leaving me behind. Bill and Will disappear into the nether-regions of “ahead somewhere”.

It takes ten minutes before I feel my ruffles unruffle. Four miles to go. Another bridge. A great day. I don’t think I mentioned it was a blue sky great to be alive and rowing day. Even a good jam your bow under a boat day.

I don’t see any other competitors behind me. No one in sight to push me. I should like to say that I didn’t give up on catching Bill and Will, that I fought the good fight, that I kept the faith, kept a stiff upper lip.

I kept a semi-respectable pace and stopped often to hydrate and stave off the creeping signs of cramping sneaking into my body. All the “I would like to say” stuff, well, honestly, it was, in Vermont vernacular, a “fair to middlin’” effort. I kept my place in line, so to speak. When I got back to the beach, I was handed a cool filled with cool water JCR water bottle.

“We have only 50 water bottles, so the first 50 to the beach get a bottle” Dan had said.

“Hey, that’s that the important part!” I said, gladly accepting the offered bottle. It was nice, as it always is, to be finished.

There is a wonderful pavilion at Fort Getty used for the après race food and awards party. I do enjoy the socializing and story telling after open water races. I enjoy being part of that group of open water athletes. “Open Water for Open Minds” it says on the “Either Oar Rowing Club” shirt that Ellen Braithwaite had sent me from Sausalito. Must be something to that.

Will and his yellow OC-1 back at the beach.

So, as in Milford, so in Jamestown. Me, Will and Bill turns around into Bill, Will and Me. Hope this isn’t habit forming!

Bill P and Andy W were first overall in their Hudson Heavyweight double. No one was very surprised at that. Mike Smith edged out Dan G for 1st 1x over 21 foot sliders. Rich K was not far behind in his custom “Rowhican” 1x slider. Gia got a first place, no surprise there either. Will, our friend with the yellow OC-1 was a first place. Simon was 1st HPK, aka high performance kayak. Those are just some of the first placers. A good day was had by all.

Me, I suppose I could say I beat the guy in my class who was DNS. And I got a collectible JCR water bottle, cool t-shirt and—this story.

Long Live Open Water
~ Wayne