Experiences of a ’Varsity Oar.
By an “Old Blue.”
(F. C. Drake.)
Illustrations by Ernest Prater.
Rowing in the University Boat Race is not a thing to be undertaken lightly. To begin with, it involves great muscular exertion; but this is not unpleasant, and, as I shall presently show, is not dangerous. Further, it ties the aspirant to his oar for at least ten weeks, which is perhaps its greatest disadvantage; and it involves intense application and a pretty good temper under remarks from the “coach” that are sometimes almost more than caustic. But against these drawbacks are to be set the pleasure of gratified ambition, the healthy life, and, best of all, the sensation of the flight of the boat driven by eight men, of whom none are really bad oarsmen, and some are uncommonly good. Putting these side by side, no one need wonder that an old Blue should look on the time he spent at Putney as one of the best in his life.
I will pass over the preliminary work at the University, for it contains nothing novel or interesting, and is mainly consumed in settling the crew who are finally to row, and in getting the men “hard” by long, steady work, to get rid of fat and replace it by muscle. The real interest begins when the crew has been settled, and the men have had their colours given them, and are looking forward shortly to leaving the home waters. By this time they are fairly “fit,” and, as they have in all cases of doubt had the very best medical opinions, they are not very likely to go wrong. There is a good deal of nonsense talked about the dangers of this race to health. No man who is not absolutely sound in wind and limb is allowed to begin training at all, for the obvious reason that the captain does not want one of his men to fail him at the last moment. It is about as probable that a man should go tiger shooting without looking to see if his rifle is loaded, as that the President of a University Boat Club should select an oarsman who is likely to “crock up.”
It is when the crew leave the home waters that the really enjoyable part of the training begins. The Cambridge crew generally, and the Oxford men not infrequently, go straight to Putney, but a far more pleasant plan is to spend a week or so on the up-river waters before going to the Metropolitan course. Everyone knows Cookham in its summer dress, with a plentiful crowd of holiday-makers on the water; but in the very early spring, before the foliage has begun to appear, and when the light-hearted champagne bottle still nestles in its straw, it has also a very great charm of its own. The fresh air, and the change to new scenes, together with the strong stream caused by winter rains, make the men feel like young bullocks, and the boat moves with twice the spring it had before. The jolly lounging life in between whiles, diversified with songs, saloon-pistols, and the like, the pleasant walk over the hills on Sunday, and the total freedom from all thoughts and cares, beyond the beating of a record over the course next day, all go to make up an Elysian life.
Every now and then the amusement is varied by the rather boisterous humour of the elements. Some five years ago the state of the tide at Putney rendered it necessary to do most of the work early in the morning. It was freezing hard, with occasional showers of snow, and the coxswain absolutely was able to stand his coat up when he took it off. It had got drenched, and was frozen stiff! I have several times been in a boat when we had to land and empty out the water, that had broken over the bow oars in such quantities as almost to sink us. Occasionally, boats have quite sunk from the same cause, while the men stuck to their thwarts, presenting a comic appearance as they rowed away, seated, as it seemed, in the water.