From Trinity:
At this weekend’s board meeting, the issue of incident reporting came up. I, listening in as best I could on my first Skype call on my laptop, was amazed to hear that buoy hits have become “common” in LARC. So this is a little article I’m calling “How to Avoid Going ‘Thunk’” into anything- sea lions, buoys, other boats, etc. It pretty much applies to everything.
Now, the first thing, the very first and most important thing is- and I’m not telling you something I wouldn’t tell my toddler (she likes to go thunk)- the supremely important thing you MUST do to avoid going thunk is…
WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING
Ok, all facetiousness, aside, coxing isn’t a passive thing. You’re not just along for a pleasant Sunday row simply reacting to what’s in front of you. You should be looking, actively engaged and looking for the next obstacle that can impede your boat.
“But Trin, the buoys aren’t in a line!,” you say. No, they aren’t and boats don’t stay in one place either. In fact few things in the water are stationary. Everyday is slightly different and you can never rest on your laurels or previous knowledge.
Helpful Hint: As you make the first turn by the breakwater and cross the channel, you have a clear view down the channel to at least UCLA. Use the time to visually pick out the buoys and anything else that might be in your path. Your mission as you cross the channel is to KNOW where the buoys are and where they aren’t. Which brings me to the next point
PLAN AHEAD.
The difficulty in coxing isn’t in counting to 10, its in the extraordinary level of multitasking you have to do in order to keep track of the piece, the rating, the feeling of the boat, the time -and if that’s not enough- steer that bad boy safely through an ever-changing landscape. Its not easy- I know but Planning ahead makes a huge difference. I don’t mean, looking at maps the night before (though if you’re traveling to a race, do that). I mean, thinking 20 strokes ahead of where you are. Remember, depending on speed, pressure and size, your boat will take several strokes to respond to your steering. You simply can’t wait til the last minute to make a sudden adjustment.
“But what do I do if I’m just not sure and can’t see?” you ask.
Well, there are a couple of tricks. If you’re worried there’s something out there, say you’ve passed two buoys and you know there’s a third, but you don’t know where, here are some more Helpful hints:
you can:
1) Weigh enough. If you think danger is imminent. Really its ok. Your rowers would rather stop for 2 secs than risk damage to themselves and the boat by ramming full speed into something.
2) Steer slightly to port and lean out to starboard, then steer slightly to starboard and lean to port. This will let you look into that big blindspot caused by the rowers directly in front of you. Works well when you have a sense of impending doom but think you have enough time to adjust. ***Don’t go fishtailing down the channel- some small adjustments are all that’s required.
Another note about buoys, this has always been true for me: if I’m between the breakwater and UCLA and thinking, “hmmm, I don’t know where the buoy line is”, there’s a real good chance we’re about to hit it.
As for the Sea lions, please be kind and share the water, especially now as the little ones appear. If you’re out in the pitch black- You can’t see the sea lions per se but you can see the smooth humps their bodies make as they sleep near the surface. Look for the break in the ripples ahead- that small smooth patch in the water is probably a sleeping sea lion.
And lastly- LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP (or, um, row)
This is also called “how not to ram into outbound boats when returning to our basin.” Simply Don’t cut the turn short. Come parallel to the basin- should be near the white gazebo on the right side but at least far enough down so that you can see down the basin before turning to cross into it.
As for the seagulls. Whatever, they have wings they can fend for themselves.
I know I’ve said most of this before but I’m going to keep saying it. After all, isn’t that what we coxswains do? Talk until we’re blue in the face (and hands and feet).
Happy Rowing.
Your cox in exile.
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