Rich K had warned of sandbars when he gave the Captains’ meeting at 7:00 am. The Blackburn usually goes off at a higher tide then this year. Still, I hadn’t really expected to find a bar in the middle of the Annisquam, dead on my GPS course.

My first clue was that big sailboat up ahead at mooring. The stern end was sticking up way to high. What’s wrong with this picture my brain was telling me? I looked down. I could see a white sandy bottom a foot or two down. I took two more strokes. It shoaled more. My blades felt the sand.  I jammed the port blade in the water. Gots to turn this boat out of here I’m thinking.

“Sandbar ahead” I yell to the Wintech guy behind me.

I start hitting bottom. Turn turn turn, a course for every season, or tide maybe. I have taken a million water strokes since I started rowing. I’ve taken a few through mud. A few where my blades went up on some marsh grass as I was “up the creek.” In rough water I have taken the occasional “air strokes,” where you feel like “gee, the water was there a second ago”.  This was first time I had taken so may sand strokes, dragging my boat towards deeper water. I could feel and see the blades dig into the sand, lifting the boat slightly each stroke. It was nice soft sand, thankfully. I got the boat headed for the deeper water to my right.

“Hey- sandbar ahead” I yelled back to Dick Henry in his blue and white Dolphin.

If I can pry a few more strokes out of the sand, I should be free. That’s when I saw Mr. Wintech and I were on a collision course.

“I can’t stop in this stuff,” I yelled nervously. I wasn’t sure I would get going again without getting out of the boat if I stopped. I forged ahead and hoped for the best.

I am in water again. But, I am tangled up with Mr. Wintech. (guy in Wintech boat) He was very gracious. He asked me to take a couple strokes. With the current pushing us together and my port blade under his stern, that wasn’t as easy as he thought. I struggled to get untangled. I pulled my port oar in a foot to take a short stroke and turn my boat. I was making it away.

Now comes Dick Henry, who I had saved from following in my oar prints. Now the three of us were close enough to have a tea party.

“God, I feel like the Mets out here,” I said, getting a flash of that old famous Mets play with three outfielders colliding

I got untangled somehow. I apologized as best I could. (Sorry Jim!-at least I think it was Jim)

Later on, I felt a little less dumb when I heard Rich K ran onto the same sandbar. He had to get out of his boat to get off. Dan G later said that was an interesting dilemma for him (Dan). Dan and Rich were leading the 1x pack, with Tim Willsallen close behind. In the interest of sportsmanship, Dan held back until Rich caught up to the position he had been in when Rich ran aground. (I don’t think I would have waited). Then Dan poured it on. Dan finished 1st, Rich 2nd, Tim 3rd. Dan was a couple minutes off his allusive goal of breaking 2 ½ hours. Before he was too old and decrepit. What if….he wondered? Two and a half hours, heck, I used to try to break 3 hours. Maybe next year for both of us!

I got going again. Kept a good pace. Watched my HR in the 164 range. My heart won’t want to do 164 for more than an hour and a half, I’m thinking. First stop was at 30 minutes, then an hour, then halfway at 1 12 hours.  I would splash my hands into the water and then grab the efuel sports drink.

It was calm. Just the occasional boat wake to keep me on my toes. There were lobster pot buoys to watch out for. One caught in my rigging. I had to stop and pop it out. There were a few rocks and shoals to dodge. Sometimes someone from shore or another boat would yell something. Sometimes it was a warning- rocks ahead- or sometimes joking or encouragement for their friends or competitors. Every yell I turned around to see if I was in impending danger. Once or twice I was.

An hour and a half was right on pace for the first half. Bill Russell later said we were about even halfway at Straitsmouth. I didn’t see him, but he was keeping an eye on me in my safety green shirt.

“Fifty two” I yelled to the halfway officials’ boat. I went another minute or two before stopping for a hydration break. I grabbed a good slug of my Sustained Energy drink.

Pretty soon I’m rowing past the Island with two Lighthouses, one on each end of the Island. There’s some story about that.

I recall that some years there are big waves piling up on some rocks around this point (no pun intended). No swells coming in to pile up into big waves this year. I do hear some yelling from somebody and turn around to see that I am heading right for those rocks that sometimes funnel the swells into scary big waves. This was one of the times I am glad someone was yelling. I change course around the rocks.

I turnaround and spot a sliding seat 2x ahead, rowed by John Ziegler and Tom Maihlot. If you ever spot a documentary on TV called “Row Hard, No Excuses”, that is about John and Tom’s Atlantic Challenge row  few years back. These guys are good rowers, even if Tom’s claim to practically 0 training for the Blackburn is true, which it likely is. Good rowers, but exceptional paddlers. Tom is known for kayaking and John, aka Ziggy, for Outrigger Canoes and Dragon Boats.

Rewind to the morning at the Blackburn registration-“Hey John, you gonna row naked today?” quipped Blackburn organizer Rich K.

“No, and I’m not getting any sores either” says Ziggy. Ocean rowers have a thing about rowing naked because it cuts down on the sores you inevitable get. For more details, contact Zig directly or watch “Row Hard, No Excuses”

“Hey guys”, I yell ahead to Tom and John. Looks like I would pass them momentarily.  This must be where I started to tire though, because I never did catch up. Later they said they saw a lot of me out there, so I must have stayed off their stern a long time.

I see some paddlers catching up to me now. I see a Green and Red tandem go by with Mark Ceconi and partner.

“Hey, go Wayne” Mark shouts with encouragement.

“Hey, go Mark” my brain is saying, but it does’t make it out of my brain to the vocal chords. Now I know I am getting tired!

It’s been a nice calm day around Cape Ann. A calm day means lots of boat wakes. I was feeling like it was particularly difficult to keep the boat straight in any little wake. That takes a lot of energy, just keeping the boat pointed in the general direction of where you want to go.

With the different oars I am using, and the gyrations from the boat wakes, I notice the blisters on my hands. My left hand has an inch long flap of blister skin hanging down from under my ring finger. Should I rip that off, or just let it take its course. I think about Howard Blackburn, rowing frostbite with hands turned into frozen claws bent around the oar handles. He watched the flesh of his fingers basically wear right off.

I didn’t have it so tough.

Finally, I see the breakwater. The entrance to Gloucester Harbor is just ahead. Now the cramps start to hit. I take another hydration stop. Two miles, more cramps, I’m tired. I want to be there. One mile to go. I do  some rowing with arms and back only. The legs cramp too much to row full slide.

Along comes another rower, some guy in a touring class boat, wooden I think. He is gaining on me. Going to pass. I don’t care anymore.

“Hey, are you Wayne Lysobey?” he shouts over.

I have no energy for wisecracks like ‘does he owe you money?” I did actually use that line back on the beach later on.

“That’s me” Is my clever reply.

“Hey, I love your rowing stories! “Bill’s Most Excellent Blackburn” inspired me to enter this race!”

“Bill, yeah, Bill is way ahead!” I say

With that, he proceeds to pass me! Should I say the stroke of the pen is mightier than the stroke of the blade?

There is the famous old greasy pole ahead and the finish line. I manage to get a few strokes full slide and cross with dignity.

The 'Greasy Pole"

This is what the famous greasy pole looks like, not greased today.
Some competitors are approaching the finish.
photo by Leslie Chappell

After enjoying a massage, some food, drink and socializing, Bill helps me move my boat up the beach away from the rising tide.

“Hey, there’s no skeg on your boat” Bill points out.  No wonder those boat wakes seemed especially squirrelly this year! I guess there is a skeg left in the Annisquam sandbar!

“Hey, wait a minute, put it down, there’s water in it” says Bill at the stern of my boat.

We take out the drain plug and watch 2 gallons of water drain out of my boat. (honestly, probably just one gallon).

“Yea, I feel better now, I have excuses!” I happily exclaim.

Another year, another Blackburn!

Long Live Open Water

Wayne Lysobey 7/30/10