Kayaking. Stand-up paddleboarding. War canoe. Outrigger. Rowing. Sailing. If it's a watercraft under human or wind power, I'm interested. I've been eyeing the Learn to Row class at Thompson Boat Center (TBC) for a couple of seasons now, and lo and behold, my pet uromastyx lizard Cooper signed me up for it this year as a Father's Day present. Clever little fellow - how did he know? And how did he get his hands on my Visa card?
Learn to Row is a week-long class, five 90 minute sessions at 6:15 AM. If you thought the river would be peaceful and wonderful at this hour, you'd be right. If you thought the same of a rowing boathouse, you'd be dead wrong. Early morning is peak time for rowing, as that's generally the calmest, flattest time of day on the river. I arrived each day to find the docks already buzzing with activity - college summer rowing programs going out in "eights" and individual rowers in singles and doubles, a veritable rowing rush hour.
The first day of the class was spent in a classroom, learning the basic terminology and techniques. They also gave us a river orientation - where the rocks are, areas to avoid in summer because of thick weeds, the locations of the other boat houses, and so on. That part I could have taught! We also practiced our stroke on ergs and rowing "simulators", basically metal frames with oar locks and sliding seats.
Tuesday through Thursday we practiced on the water, starting out in fours, moving to singles, then rowing progressively longer distances. A couple of people were freaked out by the tippiness of the shells. I didn't really have a problem there, being used to kayaks. In general I caught on pretty quickly. I wouldn't say I was a natural, but neither was I one of the people needing assistance after becoming lodged against the seawall in Georgetown.
Friday was our "final exam" - rigging out the shells then taking about a 1K loop during which we had to show certain skills. I passed and so was given the green light to take a victory lap up to Three Sisters Islands. I actually cut that loop a little short of Three Sisters, since the hard seat was hurting my bony tush and quite frankly I was feeling the results of several days of using unfamiliar muscles. Feeling a little sore as I did, plus being under-caffeinated, I of course headed straight home from the class to relax.
Just kidding! When I left TBC what I actually did was bop across the river to Columbia Island Marina where I proceeded to kayak for a bit (I had to get a side-by-side comparison of the two sports, didn't I???). Up and down the Boundary Channel, then some rolling practice in the Pentagon/Columbia Island Lagoon - about another hour on the water, all told.
So how do the two compare? It is of course inherently unfair to compare my feelings about a sport that his been a big part of my life for thirteen years and which I have pursued across three continents (four, if you count the subcontinent of Central America separately from North America) with a five day newbie experience. Fortunately it's election season and so illogical comparisons are all the rage here inside the Beltway. Here we go:
Rowing feels much more like a gym workout. Go to the workout location. Sign out your equipment. Row. Return. This feeling is furthered by the swarms of young, gung-ho rowers shouting "T-B-C!" as they carry their shells to the water, the coaches barking at the rowing teams, and just generally the high activity level of the boathouse. Kayaking, on the other hand, feels like a most wonderful way to be at one with nature on the river. Put in at a quiet spot, paddle anywhere. Solitary. Up close. Up in the Boundary Channel I paused to watch an osprey. The turtles were sunning themselves, and a spectacular great blue heron, more white-headed than most, rested in the shallows. Kayaking has a wider range of tricks and stunts to play around with too -rolling, bracing, and the like..
Another reason the scull feels like a piece of workout equipment is that I think of kayaks as having more of a practical heritage; after all, they originated as Inuit hunting craft and are still useful for everything from fishing to multiday expeditions. In contrast, rowing shells are impractically fragile and barely have room to carry so much as a water bottle. Not a practical craft. This isn't entirely fair to rowing. After all, a hundred years ago there were plenty of oar-powered work boats: dories, wherries, gigs and the like; however, I feel like rowing shell has diverged far further from its working class roots than has the modern sea kayak. As a result, rowing feels like an elitist sport; kayaking, like a lifestyle tool.
I find that both types of boat can bring on a meditative state - the repetitive motion, the slow evolution of the scenery. And I will say that the lack of gear associated with the scull is freeing. No PFD (sculls have an exception to Coast Guard rules regarding PFDs!), no neoprene boots, no paddle float and bilge pump. Setting out rowing from a boathouse is like taking a taxi - walk up to the dock in your workout clothes, hop aboard, and off you go. Kayaking is more like riding a motorcycle in that you have to get dressed up in the right clothes, right shoes, right gloves, right gear. Again, I'm not being totally fair: not every kayaker goes out with a ton a specialized gear, and competitive rowers wear those silly unitards and oddball items like rear view mirrors. Still ...
All in all, my first blush conclusion is what you'd expect: forwards or backwards, if I'm on the water, I'm happy. For sure I'll be back at TBC in the near future to spread my solo wings. Kayaking will remain my true passion, but after all, variety is the spice of the river.
