BIAC Corkscrew 2011

The Head of the Lagoon may have been the last head race of the season, but it technically was not the last race of the year.  This year, the honors went to the BIAC Corkscrew regatta.  Like the BIAC Fall regatta, this one also has wickedly windy course, hence the name "corkscrew."

The race is actually held in Port of Redwood city waters and is nine miles long (compared the to the typical head race of 3.1 miles or 5k).  With no formal pre-registration, the regatta is very casual with entries recorded and tracked on paper and pen (and results written on a white board!).  About half of the rowers were from BIAC, but a number of brave souls traveled from Lake Merritt, Marin, Los Gatos, Stockton, Berkeley Paddling and Rowing, and North Bay (Petaluma).  Costumes were encouraged, but luckily not required!

Crab and chef-themed crew from BIAC

Mx2x partner with Dan Borg, an accomplished rower and a Berkeley High alumnus,
in his awesome yellowjacket costume; yellowjacket is the Berkeley High mascot

Registration opened at 7am, but crews did not really start moseying until about 8.  Many teams borrowed BIAC boats, and there was almost a shortage of slings with teams checking out their boats and making adjustments.

Pre-race inspection of two K4s; hard to tell in photo,
but the K4 is about as long as a rowing 4x shell

It was quite a surprise too when two really fit men (who looked like national team material) started climb a ladder to the BIAC roof to pull out a four-person kayak, apparently called a K4.  This particular K4 had not been rowed in a while, and they spent a good thirty minutes patching it up.  I profess to know nothing about kayaking with the exception that it takes a lot of upper body strength and and it is supposed to be slower than rowing.  I am also not particularly fond of kayaking.  My only experience in a kayak was on an outing with the husband, and I was so cross the whole time because I felt like I was going nowhere.

A relatively crowded BIAC boatyard; photo courtesy of Joe M.

For the Corkscrew, I was rowing the mixed double.  My Mx2x partner and I were borrowing a BIAC boat.  In a quick excursion, we took the boat out to check the rigging--a lesson that I learned the hard way--before boats began launching.  Eights and quads launched first at around 9:20am, supposedly followed by fours, doubles, and then singles, but the order became blurred as boats launched whenever they were ready.  The Stanford and the Port of Redwood City docks were also available to crews.

BIAC docks--BIAC 1x and 4x (crab and chef-themed) launching;
photo courtesy of Joe M.

We waited around until all the big boats had left, including the K4s.  We launched, and it was about a short five to ten minute row to the start line, across from the Stanford boathouse, marked by a red buoy and a launch.

Pre-race photo; waiting around to launch 

At the start line, I had expected to see a crowd of boats, jockeying for space.  Instead, crews started whenever they were ready, and the start launch simply wrote down your bow number and start time as you went by.  On the warm-up, we had already seen many eights and quads, as well as a men's single, go down the course.

Before the race, my Mx2x partner was quite excited our competition, a men's double from LMRC's San Francisco Bay Blades (SFBB) and rowers whom we knew.  It is always more fun when you know the competition personally, but in general, I tend not to think about the competition.  It builds additional stress, and I believe that your best races come from within, not without.  If anything, your biggest enemy is yourself.  Yes, it is exciting to have competition right next to you, breathing down your neck, but whether you cross the line first is more about how well can you hold onto your technique, efficiency, and power and less about whether your competition will falter.  Maybe it is a naive perspective, after all, I have had only a handful of close races.

We saw the SFBB 2x at the start line, but by the time we turned and lined up, they had already left.  With the stroke coach reset and the extra clothing layers removed, we started.  We took a few strokes to build and settled into a rhythm, still feeling our bodies warming up.

The first section before the first major turn in Smith Slough felt alright.  Either from the normal excitement at the start of a race or from not rowing together since October, the boat felt solid, but did not have any extra run or smoothness.  As we approached the turn, a slower women's 2x that had started before us, was also turning.  We lost a bit of time, rowing half pressure behind the 2x since passing is strongly discouraged in that turn.  A pier juts out on starboard side and a row of parked boats lines port side.

Once we were clear, we quickly passed and I could see several different boats up ahead.  This section was relatively wide with a gentle curve.  The water was calm, but not quite glass-like flat.  As we came around the next major turn at the end of the slough, we took the inside of the turn, trying to pass a BIAC men's 4+, which was in turn trying to pass a BIAC men's 4x.  The 4+ coxswain, sandwiched between us and the 4x, had to steer tightly.

We passed by smoothly and watched the two boats battle down the straightaway.  On this section, we passed a BIAC women's intermediate 4+ dressed as pirates and a women's 4x dressed in white costumes of some sort.  I was beginning to feel the dull tiredness in my legs, and I wondered if we were going to hold our rate for the rest of the race.  The boat needed to feel more together, and the run needed to come more easily.  Nine miles is a long way to go.

As we approached the major turn into the actual corkscrew slough, my Mx2x partner asked where the SFBB boat was.  Up to that point, I was not focused on the looking for the other boats and I had not seen the SFBB double at all.  When I looked, I spotted a double that had already turned and appeared to have stopped rowing.  The next time I looked, they were rowing again.  They had cut the corner on an island that sits at the mouth of Corkscrew Slough.  In high tide, there is water between the island and the starboard side shore and appears as if there is enough room to pass.  Unfortunately, the water is shallow, and the double had been temporarily stopped in mud.

We rounded the turn on the outside of the island.  I could see the other double more clearly now, and it was the SFBB.  My Mx2x partner looked around a few times, and I felt a little annoyed.  It is hard not to look out of the boat when the competition is close by or when the course is new to you.  Although the boat felt solid, there were a number of off-strokes where we lost the set at the catch or our timing was off.  For the most part, many off-strokes came from my steering and trying to look behind.  We already had one head rocking the set, no need to add a second.

After the first corkscrew turn, which was a mild turn to starboard, we were following the SFBB 2x with about three lengths of open water.  Ahead on our port side was a BIAC women's bowloaded 4+ that was on point to converge with us.  Coxswains in bowloaded boats cannot see behind them and must rely on their crews to relay when a boat is approaching.  The 4+'s coxswain quickly adjusted, and we managed to squeeze by.

The second corkscrew turn is a sharp hairpin turn to port.  I tried to stay near the starboard shore to guarantee that we would not swing to wide out of the turn.  The third and fourth turns were less sudden, and we followed the SFBB 2x, slightly gaining on them.

In the straightaway between the fourth and fifth turn, we passed the SFBB 2x on the starboard side, also the inside of the next turn.  Although we had gained on them earlier, it took almost the entire straightaway to pull even with them.  When we did pull even, we were overstroking them, but only gaining a little bit of ground each stroke.

Any ground we did gain, we promptly lost going around the fifth and sixth turns.  Taking the inside on the fifth turn put us too wide for the sixth turn.  The SFBB 2x took the inside on the sixth turn and we were relegated to the outside.  Although we were still even with them on the turn, we had to row extra to keep up.

On the seventh turn, we lost more ground to the SFBB due to my steering us too wide again.  There was a near collision of boats between the SFBB 2x and a women's 4x at the turn.  The SFBB escaped safely while the 4x over corrected and had another near collision with an 8+ rowing on the far side.  We took this turn too close again and ended up too wide.  After seeing how far off we were, my Mx2x partner called for a stake turn, holding on starboard and rowing arms and back with port.

At this point, I was frustrated for gaining ground and then losing it back because of steering.  Nobody likes to pass only to be passed by the same boat.  I had been unsure earlier if we should try to pass the SFBB 2x.  I knew that the SFBB bowman is much more experienced steering and with the corkscrew course. I thought it might have been advantageous to trail behind them, watching and copying their course, but the Corkscrew Slough is a long way to sit behind someone.

In addition, although the water was calm, the water felt heavy as if there was a headwind.  It was only after the race did I learn about the incoming currents that fill up Corkscrew Slough.  There is an incoming current from the end of the corkscrew to about turn 4 or 5 that pushes against you.  We needed to row cleaner, to squeeze a little bit more run from our catches, and I needed to pay more attention and follow my partner more closely.

We rounded the eighth corkscrew turn about two or three boat lengths behind the SFBB, but I keenly watched and followed their course.  The last turn was out of the corkscrew and into the bay finally.  We had gained on them slightly, but then lost a bit on the turn when I called the turn a little late.  We stayed about two boat lengths of open water along the straightaway, avoiding various channel markers.

The very last turn of the race was to starboard and with about 250 meters from the turn, I called a "250," but my Mx2x partner was confused about what the call meant--250 to the finish line or 250 to the other boat.  Fortunately, he did not start sprinting because we actually had about another 300 meters to finish after the turn.  Mentally, I could feel exactly how much we had left, but I could not properly translate it into meters.  As soon as I had called "250," I realized that I was wrong.  250 meters is approximately 30 strokes, and there were definitely more than 30 strokes left.

When I finally did call the right distance, we sprinted.  As we passed the start/finish line launch, in tune with the casualness of the regatta, there was no horn, no official sign that the race was over.  It was a hard row, chasing the SFBB and while we sprinted at the end, so did they.

Results posted on the white board; our boat was called the Chataranga

The race was longer than I had imagined in my head.  Despite the poor steering, it was fun to have survived the wild turns of the corkscrew.

So glad the race was done