On June 9th 2014 a lot of media carried the meeting in which Swedish Prime minister Fredrik Reinfeldt rowed German Chancellor Angela Merkel and the Prime Ministers of Britain and Netherlands – David Cameron and Mark Rutte – across Lake Harpsundssjon.
“I have meetings all the time with people in rowboats, what’s strange about that?” I thought. I’ve rowed since childhood, for leisure, exercise, lifeguard duties, exploring, long distance swimmers escort. I’m currently servicing a floating pontoon using my small rowboat as a platform to work from. Like the fireside a rowboat is a good place to tell uninterrupted stories.
The lifeguard club owns a rowboat called the Rana which like me is over 50 years old. At the coast it was used in surf rescue training and competitions, served as command platform for long distance swimming events, triathlons and boat regattas. It was hauled over ice for winter training exercises, survived a fire that burned a meter wide hole through the hull and had to be rebuilt. According to one of my predecessors Bill Guest, he used it as an office for meeting people new to the club, assessing competency and most of all making plans. He was pleased to find as the current captain of the club I do much the same.
Four of us gathered over a hearty breakfast before we set to oars. Three of us ate, one declined. In twenty five years we have seen Jeremy eat once, and there is suspicion that he may have been faking. Rumour has it that he’s an android, though he can’t even be tempted with engine oil. Lex says he may be gas or solar powered.
Colin and Jeremy were around with Bill back in the 80’s – Craig and I were not, so being youngsters, we manned the oars and piloted the boat around the lake. Jeremy was the one who repaired the Rana after the fire. I recalled when Colin and I turned it upside down whilst in it to simulate rescue of someone trapped underneath.
The lake was like glass and the sun shone down on us. I mentioned to Colin about paddle board polo that some people at this lake play and it bought our thoughts to our late friend Julie Read. At her funeral I declared her to be the world’s best (and dirtiest) winter water polo player. We played only when the water was too cold for triathletes who we kept out of the best stuff. It was Julie and I versus Craig and Anji with whoever else turned up. Colin was goalie for both teams – his job was to catch the ball in an anchored boat and then throw it further out into the lake. Jeremy kept score. What went on under the water when Julie Read was tackling was only fully revealed after she died – both sexes reported her ability to get the ball with equal horror. No surprise that we mostly won.
Time marches on. Still involved in some rescue activity for the resident sailing club and out in the weather throughout the year, we pull on the oars and still crew rescue boats. Plenty of time to reminisce of adventures past and look forward to more. A message was received from Trevor – absent again due to televised football.
Some things never change.
See you down the road.
