June 12, 2002
I have experienced the dark side of the force behind HPB's. You know, the side with the oars, paddles and other "stick" methods of propulsion.
While I have paddled canoes, rowed big old heavy rowboats, and even paddled a slow kayak or two, today I had my first ever hands-on experience with what could be considered reasonably fast row boats.
Thanks to Steve Wells, of Evergreen Rowing in Olympia, who spent quite some time instructing me in the ways of the dark side, my experience was really quite a lot of fun.
Steve has been rowing for about 20 years, and racing for about 4. He is also the local (such as it is) dealer for Maas rowing shells. He is also involved with coaching and training many Olympia, WA, area rowers in the sport, and from what I can tell he does an excellent job.
The weather was about as close to perfect as one could ask for. There was a light breeze from the north, the water was calm, the skies were nearly cloud free, and the temperatures were in the mid 80's. Ok, so it was actually a bit hot.
Steve had two single person boats ready. The first was a Hudson, which looked much like a narrow hulled canoe with a squared off stern and a sliding seat rowing apparatus installed. This 18 foot boat has a Royalex hull, and weighs in the neighborhood of 62 pounds.
Steve said that this boat was more of a touring boat, and people have used them to carry gear on camping trips, etc. Still, it is a fairly fast design, and a more stable platform for an utter novice to learn rowing. I gingerly got into the boat, which is a bit less stable at the dock than your typical canoe and sat down. I then learned about using the oars essentially as outriggers, and how stable such boats really can be. It is amazing how much lift there is from two puny sticks placed 8 or more feet straight out into the water!
Steve also described how the oars have flat sides where they meet the oar locks. This is so they will fairly automatically fall into position as you rotate them from the power (vertical blade) position to the feathered (blade parallel to the water) position. This assumes, of course, that you don't have an iron grip on the handles and you generally apply pressure only fore and aft.
After executing some slow rowing trials while Steve held onto the stern of the boat, he got into the other row boat (a Maas Aero), and we made our way out into the channel towards the south end of the Swantown marina. I had to keep reminding myself to try to not grab onto the oars too tightly, to not snag my loose polo shirt with the ends of the oars, and to not knock one oar into the other--which was quite easy to do since the ends of the oars overlapped by several inches.
In spite of my floundering, the Hudson moved pretty rapidly through the water and without much effort. We soon ran out of channel, as the tide was draining to a negative height (with respect to average sea level), exposing a significant amount of the bottom of Budd Inlet. I managed to stop a split second before the Hudson would have run aground, and slowly backed the boat into deeper water. Hmmm, I just might be able to get the hang of this.
Steve, knowing of my background with pedal powered boats, said that he felt he was tempting me with the dark side. I told him to have no fear, as I had no money. :-)
We returned to the dock and got out. Steve then had me try the Maas Aero Carbon. He said that this particular boat was practically a factory reject because it actually was a pound or so heavier than the factory spec weight of 35 pounds. Heck, I found that the boat would move if I merely breathed on it!
Steve said that this "baby" Maas, about 21 feet long, is 5 inches wider and 3 or more feet shorter than the ones that he uses in racing. Still, it was definitely more sensitive to my body position than the Hudson. Steve held one end of the hull while I became accustomed to the boat and tried a few feathered strokes, and a couple of light power strokes. He then got into the Hudson and off we went, this time into the channel and heading for points north.
The Maas Aero was succinctly named. It literally flew across the water, that is, when I didn't stick an oar deep in the water at the end of a stroke, or get a rubber oar grip tangled in my shirt. I nearly bought it these times, too, but somehow managed to not flip over. There was so little inertia to overcome, and the boat's interaction with the water was so minimal that it was easy to move quite rapidly without much effort. Honestly, my muscles did not feel much of anything, my breathing was normal, and I was hardly sweating. The palms of my hands felt a bit abraded, however, and would truly have benefited from a pair of gloves.
In almost no time we were out to the shoal/low tide island half a mile or so north of the marina. With such a low tide, however, the island was well connected to the mainland. Gee whiz - I remember taking my Escapade over this thing on previous trips, and here it is at least 5 feet above the water!
Steve had another engagement to attend, so we turned around and headed back to the dock. Just as we neared the end of the pier I had the strangest feeling, as though I pretty much forgot most of what Steve told me. Oops! Gingerly I managed to row the boat around the end of the pier, a little close to a vessel tied up alongside, and back to the dock. Whew! I guess that was a bit too much mental work for a simple-minded pedal boater to handle all at once! :-)
I thanked Steve for the experience, and for all his excellent training and assistance.