Scilly 09 :: A Newcomers View

About five years ago I went to my first Glastonbury music festival and I came home on a high from such a fantastic, life-affirming event. This year I took part in my first Gig World Championships and I returned with a similar sense of euphoria at having enjoyed one of the best weekends of my life.

I was finally persuaded to have a go at gig rowing in the autumn of 2008 and immediately enjoyed it. For someone who had always got seasick on bigger boats, it was a relief to find I didn’t feel like that in a gig.  As I’m divorced, work for myself and have to fit rowing around my children, I trained with a Veterans crew which goes out in school hours. My team’s average age certainly belies their fitness and although I’m about 25 years younger than most of them, it took quite a while before my rowing muscles started to gain the strength that the others already had.  Led by a former Olympic rowing coach, our schedule was certainly professional and intense, but I enjoyed the sense of purpose behind our long winter training sessions, in and around the Carrick Roads in Falmouth. And as the months went on, what we might lack in brute force was certainly being made up for by our increased stamina and fitness levels.

With the goal of the Friday night Veterans Race, we felt fully prepared by the time our training wound down at the end of April. However, a significant worry did keep nagging me in particular and that was that I’d never done any other gig races prior to the Scillies weekend in my life.  To compete in my first ever race at the World Championships for my club (Flushing & Mylor) was a little daunting.

The Scillonian Ferry spills thousands of rowers and supporters on to the quay at St. Mary’s and the island must subsequently sink a few inches deeper into the Atlantic every first weekend in May. The population of the island more than doubles and every available bed and bar stool is occupied. I have been to St. Mary’s a few times, and twice to watch the Gig Weekend, but I don’t think it has ever looked more welcoming to me than it did this year.  As I stepped off the ferry on the Friday morning the sense of anticipation in the air was palpable. To be there, and this time to be racing, was a great feeling which I guess is probably at its most special the first time you do it.

We took our gig out for a practice at around midday and at that point the waves were enormous. We’re not used to rowing in such huge seas and so I started to get nervous about how we’d cope that evening. Fortunately the wind died down a little as the afternoon progressed and even the drizzle which had been hanging around started to clear.

By the time we left the beach at 5.30 to row out to the start, I was really looking forward to our event and to finding out how I’d actually feel once we were in the thick of it. It took twice as long to get out to the start as it would returning at race speed.  But riding the huge waves out towards the island of St. Agnes you can’t help but feel a little bit heroic, battling against wind and tide to get to the start and allow enough time to collect yourself for the off.

I always imagined that there would be a lot of near collisions and oar clashings on the start line of a gig race. I just couldn’t picture how so many boats could manage to avoid rowing into each other all the time. But the skill of the coxes seems to avoid too much of that happening and there’s a lot more water between boats (even in the main races) than you’d expect. But with around 120 gigs, it’s a bloody long start line!

There were only 39 boats in our Veterans race but they still seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see as we bobbed up and down between the waves which swelled between us.  Coxes shout instructions to their crews as they vie for a good starting position and I tried to focus on the start routine we had practised many times back home and which I’d never before put into reality.

The start didn’t go well for many, including us, but at least we weren’t amongst the 4 boats disqualified for being over the line. By the time the gun went off it took me a couple of minutes to get rid of all the adrenaline and nerves before we got into our stride and we went on to row a really good race, overtaking a few other boats on the way. Our stamina and training paid off as we felt as strong at the end as ever we did. We came in 25th.   Crossing the finish line and hearing the cheers from the crowds on the quay and in the many spectator boats which escorted us home was incredible.

Having got my first ever race over with it was an honour for our team to be offered the use of a Scilly boat (Slippen) in which to race the rest of the weekend. The sun came out for the rest of the Championships and by the end of our fifth and final race on the Sunday we felt a satisfying exhaustion which only comes from competing in a team sport in the British outdoors.
For a newcomer, the weekend gave me an insight into just why gig rowers keep coming back year after year to this most beautiful place and why, once having rowed in the Scillies, most become truly hooked on the sport. I was impressed at how inclusive rowing can be. Families can row together, and all ages, shapes, sizes and classes take part. A friend of mine said that she was never picked for teams at school and suffered a lot of bullying, but that in gig rowing she has found a sport in which she feels she is accepted as an equal.  There seems to be camaraderie not only within clubs, but between clubs which means we help each other out with rowers, boats and kit if necessary (thanks Helford for your cushions!).

So now I’ve been there, rowed lots of races and bought the hoody and I hope to be back next year.  It was better than Glastonbury.  Less mud and smelly crowds.  But if someone could book the Kings of Leon to play at the Sunday night BBQ, and we could all keep it secret from the rest of the world, then what a weekend that would be.