by a member of the J16 Squad
Michaelmas was a tough term; it was difficult to fit everything in; Tuesdays had me play rugby, then going to the gym and doing the ergs with the rest of the J16 squad; Thursdays involved river sessions, and Saturdays - rugby matches took priority. Squeezing in the training was tough, but the odd sculling session on Sundays with Mr Will Robins was certainly a bonus.
Bluefriars left us with a pot in Novice coxed fours and not too much frost-bite, but nobody expected the horror that was Wycliffe Small Boats Head. Having woken up more than on time, I was let down by a Polish taxi driver who failed to find my house and therefore failed to get me to school. That behind me, we arrived in a water-logged field, probably under-dressed and certainly under prepared. The morning division permitted Toby Saunders and me to rig up our pair that had been going quite well, while other members of the squad raced in a coxed four. The weather became progressively worse; however, my insulation did not advance reciprocally. During the second division, as well as the beginning of the "light precipitation", we were racing Senior 4 4+, and at the end of a heated race, with a feisty veteran four overtaken, we came out with a silver. Then came the race for which Carl had so optimistically entered us (Senior 2). Toby and I made our way up to the start, carrying out our usual warm-up. Suddenly, I found myself leaping, out of the boat and onto a parked barge which had very stubbornly got in our way and tipped our boat over. Toby, however, ended up head to toe in the water. Cold and wet already, we only got wetter and subsequently colder. Having been told we were not allowed to row, as much as we wanted to, we rowed back to the landing stage - thoroughly embarrassed. Protesting to be fine, we were carted up to the Paramedics in a warm, dry room. A day of valuable lessons.
Over Christmas I had decided to take part in a cycling challenge - Land's End to John o'Groats in 5 days. An enormous training programme which covered over 5,000 miles tried as hard as it could to get in the way but I managed to fit most of it in at weekends and after school. Nonetheless, Lent term proved to go past as quickly as we thought it would, and with an unfortunate series of floods we were unable to compete very much.
Soon it was Nantes training camp, and our first one at that. A good bunch of colts signed up: myself, Toby Saunders - the animal, Charlie Adams with his incredible power, Seb Norman, Seb Norman's loyalty, Tom Wiley and his deceptive height, Joe Farrag and his determination, James Wright with his character and technique, Barney Grove - the "good little sculler", and Charles Absolon and his persistence. With a lot of calories eaten and a good number of miles put in, we ended up in a coxless four (Charlie Adams, Seb Norman and Toby Saunders and me) and a coxed four (George Ralli, Tom Wiley, James Wright, Barney Grove/ Charles Absolon and Joe Farrag) for the summer.
The inter-regional championships called the coxless four and our pair to race representing Wiltshire, Avon, Gloucester, Somerset, and Wales at the National Water Sports Centre in Nottingham. Having arrived at the lake the evening before, it didn't bode well; it was wavy and definitely un-rowable, and the weather was supposed to get worse.
After a good sleep and a healthy sized breakfast we made our way to the lake. It was clear straight away that we were certainly not going to row the pair and maybe not the four. However, after numerous announcements, the officials allowed us to row the four. Sitting at the start, soaked already by the monumental waves, we were set off before we knew it. The weather pushed us all over the course, but at 1250m we were ahead, then the wind got the better of us and we ended up in some buoys and 4th at the finish.
However, the regattas that followed gave us some proving ground and we came out on top at Birmingham, and Avon County. Then, the National Schools qualifiers that Mr Reay puts on; the 1st double got their time, the J16 coxed four got their time after weeks of dedicated training, and we got our time as well. Again, however, the weather did not permit, and having travelled all the way up to Nottingham, we could not race, but made the most of our time up there and went for an outing on the Trent.
With National Schools behind us, Mr Reay put the coxless four into an eight with another four of the senior squad (Ali Saunders Cpt., Tommy Yip, Ali Moss and Peter Leach) with an aim of going to Henley. Only a few weeks were left for training before the qualifiers, when we managed to come 2nd in an exhilarating race at Reading, and a kick in the ribs before the qualifiers at Marlow.
Qualifying day came which happened to be the day before I made my way down to Lands End to begin my epic journey, so if we did qualify, I would be unable to row at Henley. One of the last races of the day, we waited below Temple Island, being marshalled by Sir Steve Redgrave himself. We readied ourselves for the race that had been described to us so many times. We took sips out of our bottles and were finally called up to the start. We turned to the man in front and behind and shook his hand. Then silence fell as the nerves peaked.
"Monkton...GO!"
No noise seemed to penetrate the concentration sitting stubbornly amongst us. Henley is a dull place. Carl and Gordon had been telling us for weeks. Every man in that boat reached the point where they had the choice to back down or seize the opportunity that had been put on their laps. As much as the monotony of standless Henley tried to break us, it couldn't.
We had a good row. Nothing more was said. We took our boat back to the trailer and waited. The trailer park was echoing with the groans of the ones who missed out and the cheers of the ones who didn't.
The news was voiced via the speakers surrounding the tents. Silence fell once again. Nobody could have been prepared for this moment. All I heard was "Monkt..." but that was all I needed to hear. I don't think I've ever jumped so high.
When I'd come a little way back down to earth it was time to say my goodbyes and good lucks. My dad, who was doing the ride with me, came to pick me up and take me to Guildford, where we were sent off from the Hospice we were raising money for by Roger Black the next morning. After the first day however, (the 202 miles from Land's End to Bristol) my knees couldn't cope with distance and in the evening, even after numerous stretches, it was painful to lift my knees. So the team left me in Bristol, where I was picked up and got down to school where the squad were leaving for Henley.
At Henley we had 2 days of training before the first heat; the weather was brilliant and the atmosphere incredible. I couldn't believe I was 16 and I was racing at Henley.
It came to Wednesday and we were itching to get on the water and race St Edward's, we had a morning outing, and then a few hours to rest before the race. We went through the whole situation again, the silence, the hand shakes, and the nerves. The race went well but St Edward's went away from us and we couldn't get it back. It was still however an incredible introduction into the wider rowing world and something I will never forget and will certainly not forget the people there with me.
A good foundation year of proper rowing!