July 16, 2016
Cape Ann, Massachusetts
My whaleboat rowing team, the "Polar Oartex," decided to pony up for the famous Blackburn Challenge this year. The annual race, sponsored by Cape Ann Rowing, is a twenty-plus mile circumnavigation of Cape Ann, and one of the premier open-water rowing events in New England. Open to all human-powered craft, it often draws several hundred participants and variety of sizes and classes of rowing boats.
The Route: Race Starts and Ends in Gloucester
The race commemorates Howard Blackburn, whose incredible feat of endurance rivals the survival tale of Ernest Shackleton. In January 1883, while working the Burgeo Bank fishing grounds off Newfoundland in a small dory, the 27-year-old Blackburn and his dory-mate Thomas Welch became separated from their mothership, the Gloucester schooner 'Grace L. Fears,' in a sudden snow squall. Finding themselves alone in the Atlantic at the height of winter, the two men set out to row some sixty miles to land, through an atrocious winter gale, without a compass.
Howard Blackburn
(1859-1932)
On the second night of their ordeal, Welch succumbed to hypothermia and died. But Blackburn endured. Having lost his gloves, he allowed his hands to freeze into the shape of the oar handles so that he could continue rowing. For five days, without food, water, or sleep, he rowed himself and his dead mate to shore. The story of his slow recovery, under the care of the Lishman family in the tiny poverty-stricken community of Little River, Newfoundland, is a tale in itself. Blackburn remained grateful to the villagers for the rest of his life, sending them food and medical supplies in winter. In fact, his open-handed generosity to the needy families of Gloucester is a heart-warming affirmation of human compassion.
The rugged and desolate coast of southern Newfoundland, showing the former location of the tiny community of Little River where Blackburn finally made landfall....
Returning to Gloucester a hero, Blackburn eventually established a successful tavern. The building now houses the Halibut Point Restaurant (http://www.halibutpointrestaurant.com), where patrons can see photographs of this real-life man-of-steel.
Howard Blackburn's old tavern in Gloucester, established in 1900, now the Halibut Point Restaurant
Despite the near-death experience, and the loss of all fingers, toes, and one of his heels, Blackburn returned to the sea and twice sailed alone across the Atlantic. First, in 1898, from Gloucester, MA, to Gloucester, England, aboard the 35-foot sloop, 'Great Western' -- a crossing of roughly 2000 miles that he accomplished in 62 days. Then again, in 1901, with the much smaller 27-foot sloop, 'Great Republic' (a boat only four-feet longer than 'Piao'), sailing some 2800 miles from Gloucester to Lisbon in 39 days -- a record time that stood for many years. A few years later, he made an unsuccessful attempt to do it again in a 17-foot sailing dory. The man may have been left with no fingers or toes, but he had cajones the size and strength of bowling balls.
Returning to Gloucester a hero, Blackburn eventually established a successful tavern. The building now houses the Halibut Point Restaurant (http://www.halibutpointrestaurant.com), where patrons can see photographs of this real-life man-of-steel.
Despite the near-death experience, and the loss of all fingers, toes, and one of his heels, Blackburn returned to the sea and twice sailed alone across the Atlantic. First, in 1898, from Gloucester, MA, to Gloucester, England, aboard the 35-foot sloop, 'Great Western' -- a crossing of roughly 2000 miles that he accomplished in 62 days. Then again, in 1901, with the much smaller 27-foot sloop, 'Great Republic' (a boat only four-feet longer than 'Piao'), sailing some 2800 miles from Gloucester to Lisbon in 39 days -- a record time that stood for many years. A few years later, he made an unsuccessful attempt to do it again in a 17-foot sailing dory. The man may have been left with no fingers or toes, but he had cajones the size and strength of bowling balls.
A great read on the story of Howard Blackburn (Little, Brown; 1963)
The annual Blackburn Challenge, however grueling, is nothing like what the great man himself endured. Nevertheless, it is still a pretty big deal in New England rowing circles. Participants are required to complete the 20-mile course in six hours or less; if you fail to reach the half-way point within three hours, you are disqualified and expected to pull out of the race. Conditions in 2015 were pretty rough. Not only did many boats drop out before the halfway point, but a couple of sculling shells actually broke in half and their crews had to be rescued from the choppy waters off Cape Ann.
Our non-profit organization, Whaling City Rowing, rows modern fiberglass replicas of the classic Yankee whaleboat design of James Beetle. The famous boat-maker built over 1000 whaleboats in the mid-1800s, at the rate of roughly 50 a year, at his boatyard on Clark's Point in southern New Bedford.
The workshop of James Beetle, once situated along East Rodney French Boulevard near what is today the southern end of the New Bedford Harbor Walk.
(photo courtesy of the New Bedford Whaling Museum)
Several wooden Beetle boats were built for the 38th voyage of the Charles W. Morgan, the last American whaleship and now a permanent exhibit at Mystic Seaport (for more information, click here). The New Bedford Whaling Museum owns one of those boats, and permits WCR to use it during the summer months, which is a real thrill for (some of) us.
The Whaling Museum's Beetle Boat
(photo courtesy of the New Bedford Whaling Museum)
Our club owns three fiberglass whaleboats based on this design: the 'Skylark,' 'Flying Fish,' and the 'Herman Melville.' Each is 28-feet long (one foot shorter than the sloop in which Howard Blackburn sailed across the Atlantic to Portugal), with a 6-foot beam, and weighing about 1,000 pounds when empty. Designed for stability in the open ocean, they have a tapering bow and stern and carry five oars (two port, three starboard), as well as a 23-foot steering oar that extends from the stern of the boat. Built in 1999 by Edey and Duff of Mattapoisett, our boats cost roughly $15,000 each.
One of the WCR whaleboats....
While they look identical, each of our boats has slight variations and idiosyncrasies. My team prefers to row the 'Flying Fish.' While we cautiously observe certain safety parameters, we row year-round, in all sorts of weather, both during the day and even at night. Sometimes it is a leisurely outing with lots of social chatter; sometimes it is a grueling training row of several hours pulling a five-gallon bucket behind the boat. When we picked nicknames for the team members, I was assigned the moniker 'Bucket Bastard.'
We row even in the dead of winter, although somedays it takes a little extra time to prep the boat....
I joined the club about three years ago, and soon progressed to 'Stroke Oar' -- the aft-most rowing position that sets the pace and length of stroke. About two years ago, I was certified as a Boat-Steerer and became Captain/Coxswain of the newly-formed "Polar Oartex," which quickly emerged as the club's premier 'away-team' for competitions. We have won a bunch of races, and are now the two-time defending champions of the whaleboat division at the Hull Lifesaving Museum's annual "Snow Row."
Our non-profit organization, Whaling City Rowing, rows modern fiberglass replicas of the classic Yankee whaleboat design of James Beetle. The famous boat-maker built over 1000 whaleboats in the mid-1800s, at the rate of roughly 50 a year, at his boatyard on Clark's Point in southern New Bedford.
(photo courtesy of the New Bedford Whaling Museum)
Several wooden Beetle boats were built for the 38th voyage of the Charles W. Morgan, the last American whaleship and now a permanent exhibit at Mystic Seaport (for more information, click here). The New Bedford Whaling Museum owns one of those boats, and permits WCR to use it during the summer months, which is a real thrill for (some of) us.
(photo courtesy of the New Bedford Whaling Museum)
Our club owns three fiberglass whaleboats based on this design: the 'Skylark,' 'Flying Fish,' and the 'Herman Melville.' Each is 28-feet long (one foot shorter than the sloop in which Howard Blackburn sailed across the Atlantic to Portugal), with a 6-foot beam, and weighing about 1,000 pounds when empty. Designed for stability in the open ocean, they have a tapering bow and stern and carry five oars (two port, three starboard), as well as a 23-foot steering oar that extends from the stern of the boat. Built in 1999 by Edey and Duff of Mattapoisett, our boats cost roughly $15,000 each.
While they look identical, each of our boats has slight variations and idiosyncrasies. My team prefers to row the 'Flying Fish.' While we cautiously observe certain safety parameters, we row year-round, in all sorts of weather, both during the day and even at night. Sometimes it is a leisurely outing with lots of social chatter; sometimes it is a grueling training row of several hours pulling a five-gallon bucket behind the boat. When we picked nicknames for the team members, I was assigned the moniker 'Bucket Bastard.'
I joined the club about three years ago, and soon progressed to 'Stroke Oar' -- the aft-most rowing position that sets the pace and length of stroke. About two years ago, I was certified as a Boat-Steerer and became Captain/Coxswain of the newly-formed "Polar Oartex," which quickly emerged as the club's premier 'away-team' for competitions. We have won a bunch of races, and are now the two-time defending champions of the whaleboat division at the Hull Lifesaving Museum's annual "Snow Row."
At this year's Blackburn Challenge there were 318 different craft registered, including everything from Stand-Up-Paddleboards to Sea Kayaks to Hawaiian-style Outriggers to traditional Banks Dories (for a full list of 2016 Registrants by Class, click here). Race organizers originally placed our whaleboat in the class, "Multi-Seated Boats with Coxswain." While not inappropriate, this put us together with pilot gigs of sleeker and faster design.
(photo courtesy of Ilfracombe Pilot Gig Club)
Gig racing is pretty big in rowing circles, and heir to an old tradition. In the Age of Sail, when a ship approached harbor, competing gigs based on shore would take to the water and race a local "pilot" out to greet it. The pilot whose gig reached the ship first got the job. Whaleboats were designed for different purposes. When a gig club sponsors a race, more often than not it is a straight out sprint, as gigs have a small rudder and do not turn well. Whaleboat races typically feature more turns and pivots. Gigs don't often come to whaleboat races. We went into the Blackburn with the foreknowledge that the gigs would likely finish way ahead of us. Our goal was to complete the race, and to do it in a respectable time.
"Check-in" time for the race was 0600 Saturday morning at the Gloucester High School on the banks of the Annisquam River. So our team decided to drive up the night before, with one vehicle trailering the whaleboat while another "chase car" followed behind. It was a fun ride up, despite atrocious Friday afternoon traffic. We mused about what superpower we each would have, if we could. I suggested I would be "Infinite Patience Man," which elicited a hearty round of laughs....
Lee-Ann had found us a great AirBnB accommodation in Ipswich: the former Butler's House on an old Elizabethan estate that is now Turner Hill Golf Club. That seemed fortuitous, since we had two 'Beths' on the team. The seven us of fit comfortably into the four-bedroom house, which had much welcome central air conditioning and an outdoor fire pit overlooking the 18th green.
Once we settled in, dropped our gear, and unhooked the trailer, we decided to drive over to Gloucester to scout out where we needed to go at dawn the next morning. Then I suggested we head over to the old Blackburn Tavern to have a drink on race eve, my treat, as team captain. Afterwards, we pick up some gin and tonic at the local liquor store and returned to the house to carb up on a hearty lasagna dinner.
As Team Captain, perhaps I take my job a bit too seriously. At least one of my team-mates is annoyed that I ask them to practice tying a basic set of boating knots (cleat hitch, bowline, square knot, clove hitch, sheet bend, figure-eight stopper). But when I see things like this down at the docks, it drives me bat-shit crazy:
A few weeks before the Blackburn, I drove up to Cape Ann to scout out the route we would take around the peninsula. I spoke to old lobstermen about what conditions might be like, and where things might get a bit challenging if the weather were rough. I researched tides, currents, and wave patterns. I used OpenCaptain software to plot a course, including waypoints, compass course to steer from waypoint to waypoint, distance of each leg, estimated duration of each leg, and estimated elapsed time at each waypoint.
Checking in with the Race Committee Boat as we reach the halfway point....
Polar Oartex at the halfway mark....
Off Lands End: If you stop to catch Pokemon, we will pass you.....
As we approached Bemo Ledge, near the southern tip of Cape Ann, we did a final seating position change at 1150. "Siri" (who at age 65 is our oldest teammate and seems to know everything about anything) moved to the bow, "Stella Maris" moved to the #1 Oar, and I took over as boat-steerer for the last part of the race. Now we had only one headland, Eastern Point, to make before we approached Gloucester harbor. This was a tough stretch of rowing. The open fetch of Atlantic between Cape Ann and Boston sees a decent build up of waves and swells, which rocked us on the beam. The team always rows better when their efforts are doubled, so I began to call for power-ups.
Pulling for home along Dog Bar, the famous breakwater protecting Gloucester harbor. The waves here, coming near the very end of the race, made this the toughest leg of the course -- to row and to steer....
At 1205, now twenty-five minutes ahead of schedule, we rounded the end of the Dog Bar breakwater and started pulling northward across the outer harbor toward the finish at "Greasy Pole." The latter is a 45-foot telephone pole horizontally attached to a platform about 200-feet off Pavillion Beach. Each year at St. Peter's Fiesta, a red flag is nailed to the end of the pole, which is then heavily greased, and contestants take turns trying to make their way out and grab the flag. What could possibly go wrong?
Horn and Light at the end of Gloucester Breakwater. Now, it is just that last mile and a half across the outer harbor to the finish....
At the Captain's Meeting before the race, the organizers warned us about this final 1.5 nautical mile stretch up through the outer harbor. "You round the breakwater and think you're done," they said. "But you are not." That brought a hearty laugh from race veterans -- some of whom have done the Blackburn Challenge upwards of two dozen times!
A mile from the finish and this large spectator boat cuts across our bow. The crew has no clue it is there; I didn't tell them. I just ordered them again to "Power Up!" and took it on faith that the big boy would get out of our way....
Race participants row up outer Gloucester harbor on the last leg amid lots of traffic....
At about 1220, as we neared the finish line, we spied a plume of thick black smoke rising from a vessel steaming into the harbor behind us. I called for another power-up in the hopes of getting in ahead of those noxious fumes. We worried that there was a boat afire.
Jeez, what's that? Boat on fire?
We were mistaken. It was the fishing charter boat, 'Yankee Freedom,' and he was simply burning oil as he came barreling into the harbor right amid all the small race boats. Although he was now in a 'No Wake Zone,' he was still running at full throttle, and throwing up a very large wake that posed a significant danger to the smaller boats and kayaks. He passed us about 40-50 yards to our port, and the three-to-four foot waves of his wake were upon us in seconds. For a moment, I considered pulling out my iPhone to take a photo, but then realized there was no time and that probably would not be very prudent. Quickly, I turned the whaleboat into the oncoming waves to take them a bit more on the bow. We rocked and rolled precariously, with the water splashing up to the very top of the gunwales. Thankfully, whaleboats are designed and built for stability in the open ocean.
Captain Jackass and his crew....
(stock photo from Yankee Fleet website)
With that excitement over, the team buckled down for the final push to the finish, pulling with all they had left in them. We crossed the line at 1231, more than twenty minutes ahead of schedule. I really love this crew: those last three or four miles, under the toughest conditions, fighting fatigue and exhaustion under the hot sun, were actually our FASTEST of the whole race! This is really an awesome and spirited group of people, who bond together very well, take care of each other, and leave everything they have on the sole of the boat at the end of the day.
Pulling hard for the finish. I told them we are so close that I can see people drinking cold beer on that beach....
Polar Oartex approaching the finish line....
(photo courtesy of Cape Ann Rowing)
Polar Oartex crosses the finish line at "Greasy Pole"
(photo courtesy of Cape Ann Rowing)
Exhausted but feeling really proud of ourselves, we learned that we finished the race in just over four-and-a-half hours -- a very respectable time, and much faster than the five-hours I had estimated it would take us if we maintained an average speed of 3.5 knots over the entire course.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome back to Gloucester!"
What made us even more proud, however, was that we beat that Gloucester gig, despite their sixth oar. To my knowledge, this was the first time a whaleboat from Whaling City Rowing beat a pilot gig in a race. We were stoked!
Gloucester Gig Rowing crosses the finish line at Greasy Pole. We are already fed and enjoying our second Ipswich Ale on the beach....
Two of our teammates had to leave immediately -- "Stella Maris" rushed off to attend a wedding (talk about energy!) -- so they left us on the beach. After a visit to the port-a-potty, a brief rest, some pulled pork, mac and cheese, and a couple of cold beers, we got back in the boat to row back to the boat ramp by the high school.
Feeling good. "Power Up!," "Hurk," "Shallow and Foul," and "Seawolf."
Now let's go home.....
The row to the boat ramp was short, but not without its own challenges. We had to pass under the drawbridge on Western Ave at the Blynman Canal, which connects Western Harbor to the Annisquam River. That was no big deal in itself, but we were doing it just as the ebb tide was reaching its maximum flow. This meant another hard slog against strong current and choppy waves.
I didn't have the heart to tell them what they were rowing into.
I only said, "Okay, I need you to 'Power Up' until we are through this stretch!"
With the boat finally loaded back on the trailer, it was time to get out of Dodge. Fortunately, Lee-Ann had made arrangements with the AirBnB owners for us to return to the house after the race. What a godsend! We had a chance to shower and change, then chilled out a bit and refreshened before getting on the road for the long drive home.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers and sisters.
"Hurk," the club president, wanted to go straight to the Fairhaven boat ramp and row the boat back over to Pope's Island Marina on the Achushnet River in New Bedford. But the rest of us demurred. "We have two other boats tied up there, and no one is scheduled to row tomorrow. Let's do it another day." He didn't argue. We were elated, but exhausted -- some of us more than others.
Left: this is NOT how you tie a cleat hitch; Right: a proper cleat hitch
One day, after struggling to untie that ridiculous mess on the dock cleat, I sent an email with these pics to all 70-some members of our rowing club, advising them how to tie this very simple knot. Half the club thanked me for finally speaking out about a long-standing problem; the other half no longer speaks to me. My teammates now call me 'Auto-Correct,' for my inability to keep my mouth shut when I see something amiss.A few weeks before the Blackburn, I drove up to Cape Ann to scout out the route we would take around the peninsula. I spoke to old lobstermen about what conditions might be like, and where things might get a bit challenging if the weather were rough. I researched tides, currents, and wave patterns. I used OpenCaptain software to plot a course, including waypoints, compass course to steer from waypoint to waypoint, distance of each leg, estimated duration of each leg, and estimated elapsed time at each waypoint.
My Row Plan....
For the Blackburn, my plan was to carry an extra crew-member, who would start off sitting in the bow, and then have everyone rotate through seating positions every 45-minutes or so. It meant carrying some extra weight, but I thought this would keep people from straining muscles or over-exerting in the heat, as everyone would have a chance to take a short break every once in a while. I also insisted that everyone take water or energy drink every thirty minutes, and to speak up if they were feeling tired or strained. No heroics, no martyrs....
Waypoint List....
On race day, we awoke at 4:00am and ate a light breakfast. Over the years we have discovered there are certain foods you do not want to eat before going out on a whaleboat race. If you are going to be sitting in an open whaleboat for four or five hours, you also might want to forego that big pot of morning coffee. We loaded our gear, hooked up the tailer, and drove the boat to Gloucester. Our timing was perfect. We were able to drop the boat at the ramp behind the high school just ahead a few minutes ahead of a huge line of trailered boats. At the Captain's Meeting (0700), I discovered they had moved our registration to the "Open" class. The good news: we were no longer racing against pilot gigs; the bad news: we were now racing against even faster Hawaiian-style outriggers.
Tied up alongside the boat ramp dock, with several pilot gigs rafted up next to us....
The Blackburn Challenge starts in waves, and we were assigned to the first wave (along with the paddle boards). Then they announced that Wave One would start at 0715 -- just a few minutes away! I left the Captain's Meeting in a hurry, ran down to the boat, and told the crew that we needed to get upriver to the starting line right away. 'There was no time to be lost.'
Departing the boat ramp, headed to the starting line....
We piled into the boat and took our seats for the first rotation: "Power Up!" at the aft-most #5 Stroke Oar, me at #4 Oar, "Hurk" at #3 amidships, "Stella Maris" at #2, and "Siri" at the foremost #1 Oar. "Seawolf" started out as our bow-watch, helping our initial boat-steerer, "Shallow and Foul," negotiate the twisting and congested river channel. We soon arrived at the starting point, a short row away, just beyond the railway bridge. Then it was all "hurry up and wait." The competitors were ready, but no race officials were there!
First wave making ready at the starting line....
By 0730, people began to grow anxious. There was still no sign of any race officials. The starting area was filling up with dozens of boats of various sizes, all trying to avoid colliding with each other in this small space. By 0745, it was apparent that the first three or four waves were now all bunched together here. What's the deal? Should we just start? Is someone coming to start us off? Finally, someone showed up on the dock and yelled out "Two minutes to start!" We made our final adjustments. I gobbled down a protein bar chased with a bottle of G2 Gatorade, and activated the RaceJoy tracking app that each team was required to install on their mobile phone. "Thirty Seconds!" We made our final adjustments and tightened our rowing gloves. The "GO!" command came at 0753, just a mere 43 minutes late. We were off....
"Ready All...... Pull Together!"
The first leg of the race follows the twists and turns of the Annisquam River to its mouth. Boats are bunched fairly close together, so you get a good look at some of your competitors. Some of the pilot gigs and the super-fast outriggers passed us here. But as we sat facing aft, we could see that we were still ahead of at least one pilot gig: the yellow boat from Gloucester Gig Rowing. That was our mark, we decided. Let us try to stay ahead of them!
Approaching the Rt. 128 (Yankee Division Highway) Bridge....
On the banks of the river, spectators cheered and rang cow-bells from the porches and decks of houses. We were all pretty impressed by the cool-looking tiny houses built on floating docks in the river. But the riparian wetlands were home to many nasty "Greenhead" horseflies. I was a bit distracted on this leg (no pun intended) of the race as I fought to repel these boarders. I was credited with four kills: an Ace!
My nemesis: they love me, I detest them....
"No Quarter! No Mercy!"
"Shallow and Foul" steered the boat deftly around the channel markers, while "Seawolf" guided him away from the shoaling sandbars at turns in the river, where he was tempted to seek a short cut. "That guy is going over there," he would say to her from the stern. "But that guy is on a stand-up paddle board," she would remind him. "We are in a boat."
Pulling hard for the mouth of the river....
We reached Annisquam Light, at the mouth of the river, at 0846, a few minutes ahead of schedule. Winds were light, about 8 knots, out of the west. This meant there was little in the way of chop as the river current met Ipswich Bay. It also meant that we would be pushed along a bit as we turned eastward and made our way up the northwest side of Cape Ann towards Halibut Point.
Annisquam Light. Leaving the river for open water now....
We made our first seat-position change at 0850, roughly one hour into the race, and "Power Up!" took over steering while "Shallow and Foul" became our Stroke Oar; "Seawolf" moved to the #1 Oar, and "Siri" took a break as bow-rider.
"Power Up!" takes the helm, while "Shallow and Foul" sets the stroke....
This second part of the race seemed to go by quickly. The sound of surf crashing up against the rocky coast was oddly refreshing. Having left behind the dreaded Greenheads of the river estuary, we could concentrate more on our rowing (or at least I could). We reached Halibut Point, on the northern end of the Cape, much sooner than we expected. "Hurk" took up the steering oar for the open stretch from Andrews Point to Straitsmouth, "Power Up!" returned to the #5 Stroke Oar, while the rapidly-overheating "Shallow and Foul" moved to the bow for a time-out.
"Hurk" takes a selfie with his GoPro while steering us around Halibut Point.
He happens to be our club president, the honorable 'Vice Admiral of the Narrow Sea,' and a kick-ass graphic artist who designed our team logo....
We studiously took water breaks, in rotation, every thirty minutes. First one teammate would avast rowing for a minute or two to rehydrate while the rest of us rowed on; then the next person would take their turn, and so on. In this manner, we kept the boat moving even throughout the water breaks. By 0950, we were mid-way across Sandy Bay and looking in on Rockport. Twenty minutes later, we reached the halfway point and passed between Gap Head and Straitsmouth Island. Thanks to a couple of key "power ups" ordered by "Hurk," we were now15-minutes ahead of schedule and had opened a sizable lead over the Gloucester gig.
Approaching the halfway point: the narrow channel between Straitsmouth Island and Gap Head....
(photo courtesy of Cape Ann Rowing)
At 1010, having cleared Gap Head, we took a few minutes to do a major seating position change. "Stella Maris" moved to the sternsheets and took over as boat-steerer. While "Power Up!" stayed in her usual position at #5 Stroke Oar, "Shallow and Foul" took up the #4 Oar, "Hurk" returned to the #3 Oar amidships, "Seawolf" moved to the #2 Oar, and "Siri" took the foreward #1 Oar. It was my turn for a break as bow-rider.
Here we "Avast" and "Rest Oars" during the major seat position change. Hands up for support as "Stella Maris" moves aft to steer....
By the time we had settled in to our new arrangement, we noticed that the Gloucester gig had closed on us. We bent ourselves to the oars with renewed vigor in a redoubled effort to open up our lead over them again. 'Bye Felicia....
Just passed the halfway point at Straitsmouth. New boat-steerer....
Video clip of the Oartex off Straitsmouth.....
"Stella Maris" took us around Lands End and inside Thacher Island with its twin granite lighthouses. The island is named after the Englishman Anthony Thacher, who with his wife were the sole survivors of a ship that wrecked near the island in a ferocious storm in 1635. The original twin lighthouses, erected in 1771 on a perfect north-south alignment, were the first in North America built specifically to mark a dangerous spot -- all nine other lighthouses at the time marked the entrance to ports. They were replaced with taller towers in 1861.
Putting Thatcher Island, with its twin granite lighthouses, behind us....
From there, we ran by Milk Island and then along Long Beach and Good Harbor Beach on what was the longest leg of the race -- a run of 4.25 nautical miles. This was a stretch where we needed to steer a straight compass course to minimize distance traveled, and "Stella Maris" did an excellent job!
Heading towards Eastern Point, now some four hours in, we are starting to tire. We are a little out of synch and some oars are not reaching as far forward at the "catch" as they should be (see why they call me 'Auto-Correct?')
At 1205, now twenty-five minutes ahead of schedule, we rounded the end of the Dog Bar breakwater and started pulling northward across the outer harbor toward the finish at "Greasy Pole." The latter is a 45-foot telephone pole horizontally attached to a platform about 200-feet off Pavillion Beach. Each year at St. Peter's Fiesta, a red flag is nailed to the end of the pole, which is then heavily greased, and contestants take turns trying to make their way out and grab the flag. What could possibly go wrong?
At the Captain's Meeting before the race, the organizers warned us about this final 1.5 nautical mile stretch up through the outer harbor. "You round the breakwater and think you're done," they said. "But you are not." That brought a hearty laugh from race veterans -- some of whom have done the Blackburn Challenge upwards of two dozen times!
Race participants row up outer Gloucester harbor on the last leg amid lots of traffic....
At about 1220, as we neared the finish line, we spied a plume of thick black smoke rising from a vessel steaming into the harbor behind us. I called for another power-up in the hopes of getting in ahead of those noxious fumes. We worried that there was a boat afire.
Jeez, what's that? Boat on fire?
We were mistaken. It was the fishing charter boat, 'Yankee Freedom,' and he was simply burning oil as he came barreling into the harbor right amid all the small race boats. Although he was now in a 'No Wake Zone,' he was still running at full throttle, and throwing up a very large wake that posed a significant danger to the smaller boats and kayaks. He passed us about 40-50 yards to our port, and the three-to-four foot waves of his wake were upon us in seconds. For a moment, I considered pulling out my iPhone to take a photo, but then realized there was no time and that probably would not be very prudent. Quickly, I turned the whaleboat into the oncoming waves to take them a bit more on the bow. We rocked and rolled precariously, with the water splashing up to the very top of the gunwales. Thankfully, whaleboats are designed and built for stability in the open ocean.
Yankee Freedom
(stock photo from Yankee Fleet website)
All the same, I was pretty pissed off. Picking up my portable VHF, I tried to hail him. "Yankee Freedom, Yankee Freedom. This is whaleboat 'Flying Fish.' What the hell are you doing? This is a no wake zone! You nearly capsized us!" Immediately, the Gloucester Harbormaster cut in and also hailed Yankee Freedom. At first, the bad boy would not respond, but the harbormaster was persistent. When he finally got through to him on the radio, they switched to Channel 14 and I followed to monitor the conversation. The harbormaster gave him a stern dressing down. "Yankee Freedom, you took the exam for the captain's license. You know the rules. This is a Coast Guard sanctioned event. A Local Notice to Mariners was issued. You are responsible for your wake under Article 6 ['Safe Speed' of the USCG Navigation Rules]. You are transiting a No Wake Zone. You should know better." Long pause. The Yankee Freedom skipper responded. "Uh, what do you want me to do? Slow down?" "Yes!" said the harbormaster. "I know you have to run a business, but if you don't watch it we are going to start enforcing some of those rules." Well, we all thought, that was encouraging.
(stock photo from Yankee Fleet website)
With that excitement over, the team buckled down for the final push to the finish, pulling with all they had left in them. We crossed the line at 1231, more than twenty minutes ahead of schedule. I really love this crew: those last three or four miles, under the toughest conditions, fighting fatigue and exhaustion under the hot sun, were actually our FASTEST of the whole race! This is really an awesome and spirited group of people, who bond together very well, take care of each other, and leave everything they have on the sole of the boat at the end of the day.
Polar Oartex approaching the finish line....
(photo courtesy of Cape Ann Rowing)
Polar Oartex crosses the finish line at "Greasy Pole"
(photo courtesy of Cape Ann Rowing)
Exhausted but feeling really proud of ourselves, we learned that we finished the race in just over four-and-a-half hours -- a very respectable time, and much faster than the five-hours I had estimated it would take us if we maintained an average speed of 3.5 knots over the entire course.
What made us even more proud, however, was that we beat that Gloucester gig, despite their sixth oar. To my knowledge, this was the first time a whaleboat from Whaling City Rowing beat a pilot gig in a race. We were stoked!
Two of our teammates had to leave immediately -- "Stella Maris" rushed off to attend a wedding (talk about energy!) -- so they left us on the beach. After a visit to the port-a-potty, a brief rest, some pulled pork, mac and cheese, and a couple of cold beers, we got back in the boat to row back to the boat ramp by the high school.
Feeling good. "Power Up!," "Hurk," "Shallow and Foul," and "Seawolf."
Now let's go home.....
The row to the boat ramp was short, but not without its own challenges. We had to pass under the drawbridge on Western Ave at the Blynman Canal, which connects Western Harbor to the Annisquam River. That was no big deal in itself, but we were doing it just as the ebb tide was reaching its maximum flow. This meant another hard slog against strong current and choppy waves.
I didn't have the heart to tell them what they were rowing into.
I only said, "Okay, I need you to 'Power Up' until we are through this stretch!"
Finally, back at the boat ramp, we had to wait a full 45 minutes to haul out the whaleboat as a bunch of power-boaters were launching their vessels for afternoon outings. None of them seemed at all concerned or considerate of the exhausted rowing crews. There was an Assistant Harbormaster there trying to coordinate the circus, but most power boaters utterly ignored him. 'Hurk' went to get the car and trailer, and patiently awaited his turn to use the ramp, even as a couple of Massholes jumped the line and cut in front of him. Meanwhile, the rest of us baked slowly in the hot sun down on the dock.
Don Down! Don Down!
We watched as several guys backed their trailers down the ramp into the water, off-loaded their boats, tied them to the dock, then got back into their cars, and drove off to park. We just sat there waiting to access the ramp. It soon became apparent that their spouses were unable to drive either the car or the boat. "Maybe the wives have DUI convictions," one of our teammates suggested. There was nothing we could do. Wait and bake. Wait and bake.
Okay, been there, done that....
"Hurk," the club president, wanted to go straight to the Fairhaven boat ramp and row the boat back over to Pope's Island Marina on the Achushnet River in New Bedford. But the rest of us demurred. "We have two other boats tied up there, and no one is scheduled to row tomorrow. Let's do it another day." He didn't argue. We were elated, but exhausted -- some of us more than others.
We thought about painting his face, but didn't have a Sharpie in the car....
'Shallow and Foul' in particular was utterly spent. Throughout the 2.5 hour drive home, he would at times wake up, utter a few completely intelligible comments as if he had been participating in the conversation all along, then immediately pass out again.
Saturday night, twelve hours after finishing, just starting to recover. Good thing I had on plenty of SPF-50 sunscreen!
17.45 nautical miles (20.08 statue miles), 4 hrs 38 mins
We finished Third in our class. Bronze is nice. I like bronze....
So, that's our tale. For some, the Blackburn is definitely a "One and Done" deal. But a couple of us have already started thinking about next year. If we ramp up our training regimen, we should be able to do it in under four hours next time. Anyone want to join us? We may need a couple of substitutes. Visit http://www.whalingcityrowing.org/
Great read. Too bad you don't get any exercise doing that!
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