Last December I arrived cap in hand on JMBs doorstep asking for funds for Junior rowing for my local rowing club, Bradford on Avon. These to be arranged through the excellent youth rowing scheme within Bluefriars Trust. Thankfully the funds were forthcoming, but there was one pre-condition and that was that I had to break into print to relate this tale for the next Bluefriars Newsletter. First of all, by way of introduction, I attended Monkton Combe from 1960 to 1965. I excelled at nothing but tried everything. Having stayed the course and at the tender age of 18, I was told I was ready to face the world! One of the things I did acquire during my time there was an RAF flying scholarship through the Cadets and because of this was very fortunate to get on a training course with BOAC for pilot training (BOAC for all the youngsters among you was one of the forerunners of British Airways), and because of this piece of luck this story can now be told.
Having over the last 34 years managed to stay with BOAC and British Airways, I have reached the dizzy heights of a Captain on the Boeing 747-400 and of course one of our major destinations is Sydney. One of the joys of being ancient within BA is that you find yourself quite high up in a very rigid seniority system and this means that you can dictate where you want to go and when you want to be there.
There was only one place to be in September 2000, and that was Sydney. The only drawback was that our rest pattern only allows us 30 hours break there before beginning the journey home, thus a decision had to be made whether I was to be there on the 23rd September for the fours final to watch Redgrave, Pinsent, Cracknell and Foster or to be there on the 24th for the eights and the lightweight fours. The British lightweight four included Jamie Brown who is member of Bradford on Avon; sadly they failed to qualify in Lucerne in July by 2 seconds but, at the time our rosters were being compiled, I was hoping that I would be there to watch both crews in both finals. (The eight not winning in the first heat prior to my leaving the UK made me think I had made a bad decision, but thankfully they proved me very wrong.)
My connection with the eight was through Kieran West who rowed at 6 (and of course the Monkton connection with Rowley Douglas). A quick phone call to Kierans parents managed to guarantee me a ticket for the Saturday even though it had to be picked up in Penrith on the morning of the race.
So it was that on the afternoon of the 23rd September I found myself in Bangkok pacing around my hotel room awaiting the arrival of BA9 flight from London to Sydney - sure enough it arrived on schedule. We got to the airport on time (no mean feat in Bangkok, as the traffic is abysmal), but about 25 minutes before our departure time we were informed by British Airways in Bangkok that the flight was to be delayed for an hour and forty five minutes so that some passengers from a delayed Quantas flight from Rome could connect with us and get down to Sydney for the weekend's events yours truly was not a happy chappie upon hearing this news! You can imagine by now my mind had gone into overdrive; we were due into Sydney at 0630 so with our hour and three quarter delay that would mean landing at about 0815 - right in the middle of the rush hour, with half of the roads in the city shut because of the final of the Ladies Marathon (due to start at 0830). Penrith is an hour and a half outside Sydney city which meant that I would not make the vital race, the final of the eights, which began at 1030.
As luck would have it the fuel bowser was still attached to the aircraft at this stage so I quickly rushed down to the tarmac and asked for another 10 tonnes of fuel to be put in the tanks (the nine and half hour flight from Bangkok to Sydney would use about 120 tonnes, with a take off weight of 350 tonnes, the maximum take off weight being 400 tonnes). The reason for the extra fuel is that if the speed of the aircraft is increased then its drag increases exponentially and so does its fuel consumption. Eventually the Quantas flight landed and we acquired an extra 70 passengers for Sydney, we got airborne about an hour and half late. One of the joys of the 747 is that it is a very adaptable aeroplane and will cruise at anything between 70% and 90% of the speed of sound. Well, you can probably guess the speed that we were going to try and achieve that night. We maintained a low cruising altitude of 29,000 feet and managed to overtake nearly every aircraft that was on the same route, so we actually landed at 0715 having made up nearly an hour on our scheduled flight time (and used an extra six and half tonnes of fuel!).
Thus the second stage of my journey to Penrith commenced, my optimism about the roads of the city being open prior to 0800 was somewhat misplaced but by some judicious bribery of our bus driver with copious quantities of the amber nectar and with agreement of the other 15 members of the crew I was duly dropped some half a mile from Sydney Central Station with a bag full of beer, champagne and a change of clothes. Trying to run in uniform carrying all of that was not easy and certainly amused most of my fellow travellers but I made it to catch the 0845 train to Penrith. I leapt into the loo to remove a very sweaty crew shirt and on exit immediately fell amongst thieves in the form of Staines Rowing Club (British Airways Rowing Club operate from Staines) - needless to say my bag was a little lighter when we reached Penrith at 0950.
I now had the problem of finding my ticket for the venue, having previously arranged to meet one of the Australian host families at the station, who would give it to me. It is quite difficult for two people who have never met each other and who come from opposite ends of the world to meet up without the aid of a red rose in the buttonhole or a copy of the Times. Eventually we did and they very kindly drove me to the nearest bus stop for the Olympic Lake, it was now 1005 and the race was less than 25 minutes away. I made it to the entrance by 1015 but had not reckoned with Australian security I was greeted with Wot s in the bag mate? Just a few bottles I replied. Well, you cant bring it in ere was the retort.
Pleading with them was to no avail, they were convinced I was some grey haired ageing football hooligan. At last a compromise was reached and I handed the bag containing the bottles, camera, passport, and uniform over and was admitted through the gate to run the last half mile to the course getting there at 1025 (Ergo training does have some use even for 54 year olds)
I saw the Ladies eights rowing back past the stands towards the island and no sooner had they cleared the course the last final of the Regatta commenced. The British came off the start like rats out of a drainpipe and for the next five minutes the large Pommie contingent went mad. Rowleys account in the previous Newsletter tells it all. Sufficient to say that at the finish everybody went wild with delight as we all watched Rowleys graceful dive into the water. At this stage amidst all the euphoria I managed to meet up with my host family again and thanks to their fast talking I was able to firstly reclaim my uniform, bottles and passport, etc., and secondly purloin some tickets to get over to the island and into the competitors' enclosure. We managed to meet up with Kierans parents, and eventually Kieran and some of the rest of the crew after the presentation of the medals by Princess Anne, and to finally empty my bag so that it was now acceptable to the Australian Security Authorities.
A very pleasant afternoon ensued and eventually about 4 pm having been awake for the best part of 40 hours I decided it was time to cut my losses and go to bed (assuming of course I could find it). I managed to get a bus back to the station and then a train to Circular Quay in central Sydney. It was a short walk to our crew hotel and yet again I had to run the gauntlet of the Olympic Security System, which dictated that no one without accreditation could get into the hotel. My accreditation was in the hotel, a truly classic catch 22 situation!! Fortunately my very sweaty shirt was one of the few remaining items in my case and this finally made them give in and let me into the hotel. For some reason I had been allocated a suite on the top floor of the hotel which presumably had just been vacated by a member of the IOC as, littered all over the floor inside the door, was publicity material for various future Olympic bidding cities, including Paris, Toronto and Beijing: needless to say none of them got my vote and I fell into bed, and was fast asleep instantly.
The following afternoon BA 10 departed Sydney for Bangkok on time with myself, Princess Anne, Jonathon Edwards and several of the British athletic squad on board. This time the flight time was more or less normal and the BA accountants breathed a sigh of relief. Having picked up my Bluefriars cheque in December along with last year's Newsletter, which included Rowleys account of his three years prior to September 2000, I can only say that my efforts to spectate pale into insignificance compared to his sheer determination and ability to get into the crew and to all the squad for their dedication to the cause of British rowing. It was one day out of my life and four years out of theirs.
Mike Smith