Eighteen 1st VIIIs (1970-1987) did their Easter training in Cambridge as guests of Caius Boat Club. Our latest Caian was Jeremy Morris, who was Vice-Captain of CBC, rowed in their 1st VIII, and also got a First Class degree. He had previously rowed in the MCS First VIII in 1993 and 1994.

I returned to the river Cam for the first time since 1987 to coach crews from Caius for a few days in November. The top Women‘s VIII arrived for their first outing at 0645 - before dawn. Many other crews had also descended on other boathouses, and about 40 VIIIs waited patiently for lighting-down time at 0703, and which time (precisely), all boats struck out from shore; the armada headed for Baitsbite lock, some three miles downstream while the rest of Cambridge slept on.

Near the gas works, we came across a marshal, who logged boats as they went by, and made sure that coaches were maintaining silence, to ensure that the citizens of Cambridge were not disturbed from their slumbers. Pre-dawn is not my best time of day, so silence was most acceptable, even if getting back on a bike for the first time for many years had come as bit of a shock to several parts of the anatomy. At least the towpath is flat, and the going was rather easier than I had experienced during inadequate secret training done at Monkton in the weeks before the trek to the fens. (Incidentally, one of those sessions had involved a ride up Limpley Stoke Hill, then down to Freshford, with the intention of coming back along the canal. Marks for Geography = zero, but it did result in some extra training.)

The Women‘s boat wanted to row the three miles without stopping, but unhappily the armada was not of even quality, so there were several heaps of boats littering the river in various states of turning, thinking, listening, at all points from the Pike and Eel, via the Long Reach, Ditton Corner, the Gut, the Gunsheds, to Baitsbite itself. We intended to do eight or ten miles, but the later part of the outing was disrupted by a second wave of boats, all novices, who had been time-tabled to leave the boathouses about 10 minutes after the better boats.

The river had not changed much, but there were far more moored pleasure boats and some smart new boathouses and other buildings. And of course no racing crews would have been seen on the river at such an unearthly hour in past years.

We got back to the boathouse at about 0840, and immediately two of the crew rushed off to labs. I had enjoyed the unaccustomed exercise, and even hoped that some weight had melted away, but the breakfast in College was irresistable, as it was for so many Monkton oarsmen at Easter training camp. And now, as then, the only takers for this grand meal were the Boat Club.

Julian Bewick