The other women

Here's a confession. I talk to boats. No, not all the way out loud, and no, they do not have verbal conversation back, but I talk to the racing shells. Have since I was a junior in high school, and I don't know why I started. There is no moment that stands out in my memory as when I started talking to boats.

I do believe that boats have personalities. After all, people have been naming boats since time immemorial. Sailing ships carried figureheads that were fanatically cared for by the crew (perhaps the young female figures had something to do with that. These were long voyages away from land with a bunch of smelly other guys.) Rowing shells were named like any other ship when the sport was beginning. Harvard and Yale's boat club records list names of the first racing boats, rather than their configuration. (Bonus "get out of erg hell day pass" to any rower that finds the correct configuration and names for those shells.) Boats take on personality, sometimes from the crew or sometimes from their names or sometimes their manufacturer.

Our freshman Empacher 8+ in 1996 was dubbed the Rolling Thunder by our coach, after his description of our signature power move in the middle of the race. That boat reminded me of a German Shepard. It was menacing on the water to just hear; the finishes boomed across the course in a way common Vespolis just didn't. The riggers were custom jobs from Englishman Carl Douglass (these can been seen as standard equipment now on Resolute shells). The bow cut the water with a viciousness when on race pace that our JV learned to dread. Like a Shepard, the shell was protective of it's "family;" only ten guys ever filled its nine seats and we never took on much water in a cruel New England spring. It was athletic, stiff and mean. We loved it, and I badly wanted to row it again next year, when it was retired from racing duty. I would mentally sweet talk that boat, alternating with growls and shouts. We all yelled on the settle stroke after the start, sort of an attack call to a dog.

The first carbon Millennium from Vespoli in 1998 had an otherness to it that was a little eerie. The internal parts were familiar, the hull shape the same as every other Vespoli in the fleet. The stiffness was out of the ordinary. I swear I could feel the stroke's heartbeat from 5 seat. It was a race car, a Lotus: simple, light, stiff, responsive to the slightest touch. Like a Lotus, it required skill to use properly, and always felt small. I rowed every seat in that boat from bow to 7. It never felt like an 8+, it always felt smaller like a 4+. That boat rewarded oarsmen who could "feel" what was happening rather than watching the stroke rating.

I have two new "ladies" in my life this spring. Fox Chapel has a new Vespoli V1. Jesse was going to meet me when we rigged the V1 for the first time, but ran late. I was halfway done when he got to the bay, listening to my iPod and murmuring to the hull as I measured and adjusted. This is something new, something that just isn't like everything else out there. Not the same old Vespoli "needle" hull design, not the brutish lines of a Resolute. A new Ferrari, perhaps? A Peregrine falcon? An F/A-22? I'll have a better idea when it goes on the water.

Pitt has a 4 year old Empacher midweight 8+, formerly of Columbia's lightweights. I'm taking my time with this boat. I want everything to be perfect with her. Jesse said my eyes lit up when I saw this boat for the first time, waiting for us on a trailer in the cold New York sunshine. This Empacher hasn't been rowed for almost 8 months, and there are little flaws that I'm learning. Bolts bent off true, shoes a little floppy from so long upside down and dusty riggers. But I see another Empacher from my past in this newer boat. Old familiar Empacher quirks that might drive my Pitt rowers mad (like feet that require a wrench to adjust) seem welcome and graceful to me. The kids want to come down and learn about rigging from me while I get the boat ready. I'm only happy to teach; I'm known to teach too much in a long-winded method (just look at this post). But I don't want them around just now. I want some alone time with this younger sister of an old flame. I want to know if she's lighter on her feet, like a samurai swordsman rather than a medieval knight. The Thunder was subtle like a sledgehammer, this new lady feels more limber, precise and sophisticated.

Coaches are supposed to be a little strange. We all have our little quirks. Just call me......The Boat Whisperer.

Categories: Boats, Memories, Coaching, Rowing, Yale, FC, Pitt