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SPOTTING KING PRAWNS
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By Neil Lewis
While staying near Sunderland some years ago, Lewis Carroll once wrote: "The time has come, the walrus said, to speak of many things and why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings."
Like many of these rowing columns, nonsense perhaps, but surely written out of experience. If he'd been on the Wear at nearby South Hylton last Saturday with Hexham RC's hearties he might have continued: "And where are all the trollies from, bobbing around our boats? And trees, and tyres and planks and cars. Is that a body over there?"
In this, the first fixture of the winter Northern Sculling series, it's bad enough leaving your car at Pennywell, but here you have the added joy of local louts in speedboats leaving havoc in their "boiling" wakes.
In the winter, rowers race in "heads", long-distance time trials. The Sunderland event was over 5km. The Wear, being tidal here, dictated that everyone paddled up to the start on the turn of the tide, and raced back on the change.
You knew what the Titanic felt like wending your way, not through an iceberg field, but one of tree trunks and branches. The receding tide theoretically pushes this detritus to the banks and you can row flat out back to the finish. Theoretically.
The star of the Hexham fleet was novice George Doody who negotiated the aquatic obstacles with aplomb to win his category for the first time, and cover the course over a minute faster than last year.
He is living up to his title of HRC's most improved sculler, and on Sunday was to be seen training on home waters, negotiating the myriad newcomer crews of small QEHS students.
Ladies and gentleman I give you George Doody, slalom specialist and rising star.
The Hexham ladies coxed quad enjoyed their day, but it seems that nobody had told them it was a long distance race, even though the series is advertised as the Long Distance Sculls. That's long distance are we there yet?" This was their first, and a dramatic baptism for new crew member young Rosie Upstill-Goddard, who under her mother's watchful eye acquitted herself well.
And lastly, the men's senior 3 boat containing Brown and Lewis had their own private battle with "the Berwick boys."
Brown set a fine rhythm and pace and, for the first half, the boat sang. Lewis had miraculously chosen a great line. So had a part submerged tree sitting invisibly at 90 degrees to them, in line astern.
They rode up it, on it, and sat there, stopped dead like a couple of king prawns. Every attempt to move either back or forward to extricate themselves seemed to no avail.
After a couple of minutes and one mighty pull they shot away to make up precious time. Berwick beat them, by one 1 minute 25 seconds. What might have been?
Previously published by Hexham Courant
11 Oct 2002
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