January 29, 2002
charlie fox
If not for the fact that I try to moderate my language around juniors, I would say
that the word that best describes yesterday's practice is "clusterfuck". Not the
kids' fault -- they were mostly great.
Yesterday, we had a coxed quad
of experienced rowers (one hadn't sculled (two oars each) before, but it's not all
that different) and a four of less experienced ones -- about intermediate level.
Entrenador and I, one extra cox, and one kid who needed to take pictures for a
class were in the launch. Here's the lake:
src="http://riseagain.net/dichroic/images/town_lake.jpg">
The lake
runs mostly east-west -- southeast is up in the picture. We were halfway between
the bridges, near the south shore, with the launch and the four and a strong
breeze from the southwest, when the launch died. We tried and tried and couldn't
restart it. In defiance of safety rules, we couldn't find a paddle on the boat.
Fortunately, the wind pushed us over to an area where we could tie the boat off. I
remembered that the other launch had just been returned to the lake, after an
extended period of maintenance. We tried to raise the quad on our radios, but as
usual they weren't working well, so we got the four to come over to us, and I
swapped places with the cox. We took the four in to the beach; I hadn't realized
until I got to ride with them just how bad the set in that boat was. Really, it
was par for the course for intermediates, but juniors only have a novice and a
varsity class, so they get thrown into varsity while they're really still
learning.
We finally got to the beach. I took the stroke rower (the
least chattery of the bunch) with me and begged a couple of the club rowers I knew
who were there to help the other girls get the boat on slings and out of the way
of any other boats landing. (They came through and took it all the way to the
boatyard. Good people.)
Meanwhile, the stroke rower and I walked over
to the other launch. By this time, the people on the launch were on the radio,
asking over and over where the other launch was. We tried to reassure them, but
our was low on batteries and they couldn't hear us. We untied one of the boat's
ropes, and I started the engine. I eased the choke down partway and everything
sounded fine, so I got the rower to untie the other rope and jump on. I lowered
the choke and shifted quickly into forward .... and the boat died. Arrrggghh. We
tried again, quite a few times, and for the first several, it died as soon and I
lowered the choke. After that it wouldn't start at all. Unfortunately, we were on
the north shore this time, so did not drift back to the dock. Instead we drifted
slowly west, toward the beach.
By this time, the quad had figured out
what was happening and had come in to the beach. Entrenador must have swapped into
it, because I saw him there. We jumped up and down and shouted a lot, and finally
someone figured out that we were drifting. One of the rowers who was in that boat
has a tendency to take charge; so far, though, he's managed to do so mostly at
times when it's helpful rather than annoying. He's one of our strongest rowers,
and has rowed a single a lot lately. He jumped into a club single that was sitting
there, came over, and towed the lunch to the dock - no small feat, in a single.
Fortunately, it was only a matter of five meters or so.
So at this
point, everyone was on shore safely except for the original aberrant launch and
four people on it. We were able to talk to the marooned people on the radio the
quad's cox had had. Somehow, they'd managed to get loose from the wall and were
drifting. (Silly kids. This is why I said they were "mostly" great.) Unknown
Legend was around and called the park rangers, who are supposed to do rescues, but
apparently they were in their shift change and had no coverage for a half hour.
(Scheduling apparently courtesy of Incompetency Ltd.) Thank goodness no one was
drowning. The quad went out to try to tow the launch -- a few people had had to
leave, so they had fairly inexperienced people in the cox and stroke seats. By
this point the launch was back by a wall and some cops came over; however, instead
of rescuing the kids, they just yelled at them. Very helpful, Tempe's Finest.
Unknown Legend tried to talk to the cops on radio, but by that time the quad was
there (this all seemed a lot slower at the time). The quad was able to tow the
launch, very slowly. I ran down toward them, but was on the opposite side of the
lake. By dint of much waving and yelling and jumping up and down like an idiot (I
was an idiot, not having brought the radio) I got them to come over to me, instead
of trying to take the boat all the way to its proper dock, west of the westernmost
bridge.
We got the launch in to the dock there, and all the kids
headed off. Just as I was tying the boat up, Queue came roaring up. In the second
launch I'd been unable to start. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. She said, "It started on the
first try." Stupid boat. Possibly the carburetor was flooded, but I had tried
letting it sit a few minutes just in case. I hate when that happens. Queue,
who is also an engineer and therefore knows that machines can have their own
minds, was sympathetic, as was Unknown Legend, but it's still embarrassing. Stupid
boat. Stupid, stupid boats. We towed the nonworking launch in, and I finally got
to home.
Rudder was still out at work by that time -- 6:45, and he'd
gotten to work at 7:30. This was good, in a way, because it meant he hadn't eaten,
so I was able to persuade him that we both required Beer for the good of our
souls. He finally got home at 7:30 or so, and we headed out to our local. Ahh,
Beer. Is there anything it can't do?*
*Yes, psychic trauma turns me
into Homer sometimes.