Bostonian Weather

Just another day in Boston...

There is a saying in Boston about the weather, “Don’t like the weather, just wait a minute and it’ll change.” What Bostonians do not tell you is that the weather usually changes for the worst.

The morning after the Petaluma River Marathon, my unfortunate husband woke up before the crack of dawn to drive me to the airport. (The Princess was undisturbed, asleep at her vacation home, i.e. Grandma and Grandpa’s.) New job and a new location to travel to—Boston.

I arrived Monday evening to a warm, humid Boston. Guys walked around Newbury Street, a popular tourist and shopping area, in T-shirts and cargo shorts and girls in skirts and spaghetti straps. By Tuesday morning, all the Walgreens and CVS’s in the city, had rolled out their umbrella racks, knowing that in miserable, drenching weather, anyone would be willing to pay $15 for a crap umbrella.

The rain and cold from Tuesday continued into Wednesday. With only light rain Wednesday morning and wearing all the layers that I had packed—a T-shirt, long sleeve, and jacket, I headed to Union Boat Club (UBC). UBC is located on the south side (downtown side) of the Charles River Basin.

The sheer number of Boston rowing clubs makes the Charles River THE place to row. Many of the well-known clubs include Cambridge Rowing Club, Community Rowing, Riverside, and UBC. Other teams include universities (e.g. Harvard, MIT, BU, Northeastern) and high schools.

MIT women's crew getting ready to launch in the rain

UBC is a small, but well-established club in Boston whose rowers primarily scull with a handful of members or ex-members being elite or national team scullers. The average club boat is, you know, just an Empacher!

We had 2 men’s singles, 1 men’s double, and 2 women’s doubles (of which I stroked one) out on the water with the coach in a white, sleek, official-looking wakeless launch. Rowing up river, the water was rough. The workout was 3x8minutes at 24, 26, and 28spm—two pieces up river and last piece coming back down.

Right about where we started our first piece, the river was calmer, but nothing in comparison to Lake Merritt on an average day. The slowest boats started first--my double started second. We were able to hold off the other women’s double who left third, but they were able to close most of the gap between us. We rowed past a whole armada of Riverside boats pass us and steered our way around Community Rowing boats and other singles who were stopped.

After the last piece, we were still a good distance from the boathouse, and the coach went in ahead of us. The wind and rain began to pick up, and the river turned choppy again. On the way back, my doubles partner spotted a fellow member sitting wet and curled up on a dock on our starboard side. The girl had taken out a Peinsit single and her boat, bouncing up and down with the waves, was parked along the dock. We pulled over to check out the situation.

As the weather had deteriorated and water filled the boat, the terrified girl had found it hard to row. She had managed to find safety on the dock and tried to wave down the coach as he drove by, but he was driving on the far side and did not see her.

In order to get back to the boathouse, we all played a game of switching seats. My double’s partner went into the single. I moved to bow seat in the double, and the girl sat in stroke seat. With the new arrangement, we tried to push off the high dock, which was definitely not designed for rowing shells. Somewhere in the push off, my double’s partner flipped the single. Luckily, though, compared to the rain and wind, the water was warm.

Unable to get back into the boat, my double’s partner pushed the single back to the dock and got back in. Then, I got out, ran over to the single, in my hurry slipped on the dock, pushed the single back out, and got back into the double. We shoved off the dock and rowed half-slide back to the boathouse.

If you are a rower, you know that the Head of the Charles (HOTC), in October, is THE head race. With two days of racing and over fifty different events, each with an invitation and lottery entry selection method, it feels quite prestigious and official to race at the HOTC.

It is days like Wednesday, however, that make me really wonder what is so great about the HOTC and the Charles River. In October, Boston weather is usually crap and the river is never calm and flat. When you mention HOTC to other rowers, you always hear stories of the year that it started to _(fill in the blank with snowing, hailing, storming, pouring)_ or the year that the Chinese eight crashed and sank (2006). Experienced rowers will tell you to bring a sponge because you might be bailing water out of the boat. And that despite your warm-up, you will probably find yourself sitting at the start line, shivering and waiting for your bow number to be called.

Perhaps the HOTC is the ultimate example of “misery loves company.” With over 8,000 other rowers suffering the same fate, it almost seems like THE cool thing to do. It just happens to often be cold, rainy, and windy.