Chapter 4: The Micelli Twins' New Cox

In order to get some more separation between the tight twins, they joined the coxed eight squad of the local rowing club, the Rowing Roosters (logo: an eight-winged cockerel). Portia got the stroke position, Star went to the bow position, giving them at least 8 metres of clearance and six different opinions between them in any discussion.

That is where the real trouble started. A scented note inviting me to an unknown location (to me), to 'Show me the ropes' turned out to entail a trial as a coxswain for their rowing team. (Someone has to, and we have you, so squeeze yourself in, here's a pillow to sit on and prevent permanent damage). This is harder than it appears: not crashing the 18-metre boat into anything while at the same time equally dividing my attention to both sisters and at the same time clearly ignoring the six girls in between except for strictly rowing related communications like telling them to sit up straight and at the same time listening to what commands and instructions the coaches are shouting from the riverbank through their dented brass shouting horn. (This mythical piece of equipment was allegedly used for shouting at past Olympians, so it must be good). Steering an eight is like manoeuvring a set of three large trucks tied together sideways through a narrow alley by means of a piece of wire, so no pressure. The trick with bridges is to aim dead centre of the opening. Knowing it is wide enough beforehand is a bonus.

After my second training session, the coaches announced that we would be competing in the Head of the river Amstel regatta in two weeks. (They had known this for some time, but kept it as a surprise. Yay!) This 8km race at the start of the season is only one of the biggest events for eights nationwide, with over 250 eight teams competing in some years, meaning that a large part of the whole fleet will be there over the weekend.

They took me aside to discuss racing strategies and share horror stories, starting with the infamous 'Stop rowing!' Youtube clip (which shows what could happen if you forget about the blind spot right in front of you (so look PAST the girls, not AT). (Ouch). The crucial part for a coxswain doing this race is to get through The Big Bend a.k.a. Hookers Corner without crashing. This 120-degree sharp left turn can be a killer when steering an eight at racing speed, especially if other teams are in the way. Discussions on how this is best done are still ongoing, even though the race has been held since 1932. A dedicated bigger rudder would be mounted to the boat to improve the turning radius. (Bigger than the usual postage-stamp-size rudder, anyway.)

Knowing what was going to come, our agenda was then fully booked for dedicated training. High-impact race training every 48 hours with technical gibberish in the days between those. Pasta meals every day.

Race Day - Head On

It took three cars and a lot of hunting for the nonexistent affordable parking spot in Amsterdam to get us all where we needed to be. After getting the two halves of the racing shell off the trailer we started to assemble the boat. (Because not everybody can afford a large boat carrier, the international rowing association stipulated that using a two-piece eight is mandatory.) The length-to-width ratio of an eight is such that it resembles a rather large needle, which could only be balanced by the grace of a seven-metre span of the oars. This one is made out of carbon-fibre-reinforced composite. According to one of the coaches, the old wooden racing shells sometimes lost so much torsional stiffness while aging that the rowers in the centre could lean to one board while the bow and stern rowers went the other way. As a coxswain, I have taken responsibility for bringing the size 10-13 open-sided wrenches (not to be confused with open-sided wenches) needed to mount the outriggers to the boat. After some discussion which one should go where I removed the first one because it was mounted upside down. It is very important that one person has final responsibility for checking the tightening of all the nuts (me again), because losing parts during a race is generally frowned upon. Due to the large number of contestants, every team got a strict time slot for launching their boat and rowing to the start.

Now it was our turn to get into the water. We now switch from Diary mode to Live mode to get into the spirit of the thing.

'Hands on! Anyone who hasn't gone to the toilet may now curse themselves or explode in the next two hours.'

'Lifting on three. 1, 2, 3!'

'Watch out while we walk up to the jetty, it is very crowded. No tripping over oars, dogs or Leonardo Dicaprio.'

'That boat is leaving, side, so let's go get that spot.'
'Heads on 3. 1, 2, 3!'

'Toes to the edge on the right side and Roll her in.'

'Get the oars in, Pronto!'

'Stroke-side holding while Bow-side goes in and do not forget to close your gates!'

'Stroke-side IN and close your gates.'

'Prepare for simultaneous cox embarkation and push-off... Now.'

'Some strokes from the bows whenever possible to clear the jetty. Thank you very much!'

'Count from the bow if you are ready to row.'

Putting on my special peaked cap and activating the on-board PA system, I performed the speech I had been rehearsing for days: 'Ladies and gentlegirls, this is your Captain speaking. We will momentarily commence in a bout of light race rowing. The weather is fine, with a light headwind and no turbulence apart from that which you will hopefully produce at your blade tips. The estimated flight time is just under 30 minutes, give or take a woolly mammoth's whisker. We wish you a pleasant flight and we hope to see you again soon. On behalf of all our crew, thank you for choosing Rowing Roosters as your mode of transport today. The availability of lemon-soaked paper napkins is entirely your own responsibility, so I don't want to be hearing about those. Please re-check that your gate is firmly closed and prepare for taxiing.'

After a wave to the coaches on their folding bikes we went off to slip into the queue to the starting area, some 8km upstream.

Getting into the Amsterdam canal boat spirit, I announced: 'Ladies and gentlepeople, on your left hand you see five fingers.' Who said coxing couldn't be fun?

At some point we had to wait for a bit, so we could cheer for a team from our own club racing the other way, doing the trademark cock-crow.

We eventually reached the starting area, where we could turn around and attempt to take our place in the starting order, just like the 25 other eights that would start in our block. The ability to swear in different languages is a useful skill when dealing with an international maritime traffic jam with lots of pointy bits that can get tangled. Time for the next announcement: 'We're just waiting for permission from air traffic control to start our flight, please be ready, have a drink and stow away your training jackets if you haven't already done so. It will be a flying start with an approximately 100-metre run-up before the starting line. We will row up to the pre-start at a controlled light stroke to get the timing together, then accelerate with five three-quarter length power strokes up to racing speed at full stroke length. Then it is just a question of going on until I say otherwise. Target stroke rate is 32, please try not to overshoot too much at the start. Follow Portia, because she is the stroke, you know what I mean, right?'

'And off we go. . . ! Three-quarter strokes now! One, Two, Three, Four, Five and full strokes from now on!!! We have started. Stroke rate 34, make them long to get to 32, but keep the pressure on. We are already gaining on the boat before us. Let's go get them before the first bend!'

'COMING THROUGH, NUMBER 41, MAKE WAY!

THANKYOUVERYMUCH!' (Because the PA system is not connected to other boats, you still need to have some voice power of your own, as a coxswain.)

'Ten power strokes with focus on the legs. . . NOW! And we are past.'

'Let's see if we can get number 40 before the Big Bend. We are doing a steady 1:45. Keep this up.'

'Don't get distracted as we go to starboard and then hard to port side. Here we go.

Farmhouse on starboard. Don't look! Just talking landmarks to myself. Now hit the apex at the mirror on a pole and we're through. Sweet.'

'NUMBER 40, MOVE TO PORT! WE WILL TAKE THE INSIDE!'

'OK Ladies, those bridges mean we are halfway. According to my Biology teacher you should have replenished your Glycogen levels for another ten stroke boost by now, so let's see if she's right after passing the highway bridges. In 3, 2, 1, push, Push, PUSH!' (Never had I expected to order eight girls to push and keep pushing at this young age. On the other hand, asking them to pull those handles hard also sounded kind of dubious. Rowing is weird! Maybe it is caused by the moving backward)

'That's how it's done. We're back up to speed. Try to maintain this. Still 32 strokes per minute and 1:45.'

'Six-and-a-half K gone, it's looking crowded up ahead! Keep this going, you can breathe afterwards.'

'NUMBER 39, WE ARE PAST YOUR STERN, SO THAT STARBOARD BRIDGE PORTAL IS OURS!'

'Final five hundred.'

'Three hundred.'

'Final boost of ten, everything you've got and all together! 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and another five! (sorry for that) 1, 2, 3, 4 and we're finished. Another ten light strokes to clear the finish line, please. Good work. You can breathe now. Thank you for flying Rowing Roosters'

'While you are recovering, I would like to inform you that I clocked us at around a whopping 28 minutes. My heart rate monitor maxed at 178 strokes per minute, any higher bids?'

As no higher bids were made, we proceeded to turn around and used the side lane to get back to the jetty to disembark, and in some cases to run to the nearest toilet facilities.

I wonder if they know about the tradition about throwing the coxswain in the water after you win.

They did.

Now I wonder if there is a competition for how far out you can throw your coxswain. That will probably be a win for the heavy men's eight with their tiny cox. Poor girl.

Did I mention that the radio was stolen from all three cars, leaving us to wait for replacement windows?

Once we were on our way, I was sandwiched between the exhausted twin sisters in the back seat. One on each shoulder. Fast asleep. I love uninterrupted blood circulation, but sometimes it's worth the pincushions.

Caiman Raptor Elk

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