Rowing in the Early Daze

Nowadays, the foolish youth of the Islands actually practice in early April, venturing out in cold winds, blinding low reflected sunshine and Arctic spray, getting blistered hands and ice-cream headaches. T. S. Elliot summed it up when he wrote ”April is the cruelest month...” and from memory, few of the St. Mary’s gigs were remotely ready that early in the year and practising was not a word found in the average rower’s vocabulary. May month was plenty soon enough and it was considered poor form to undergo long practices. That began to change however, during the summer of 1968 when, in the first full season following the launch of the first gig built this century - the Serica - the crew decided to attempt to row to Penzance. Naturally enough, some pretty vigorous training was needed and several marathon pulls were organised to get the crew into shape. When the news of this attempt leaked out, two other gigs from Scilly also decided to give it a go - the Czar from Tresco and Bryher and the Golden Eagle from St. Mary’s. In order not to be out-done - as they were the first to think of the wheeze, the Serica kept their departure time a secret and when the crew of the Czar arrived from Tresco just after dawn on Sunday 21st July 1968 to join the Golden Eagle, the Serica was missing, not even a note to say they’d left an hour earlier. I was in the Golden Eagle crew that day, and although we felt a bit miffed at the time, in retrospect, it was wonderfully in keeping with the traditional spirit of the gigs - the first to the ship won the pilotage right - and this case the first to Penzance won the glory, and if you can put one over your rivals, then so much the better. The Serica turned up at the quay in Penzance after pulling for just short of 10 hours - the first attempt in 74 years - and were duly feted by the Mayor of Penzance and a suitable case or two of beer supplied by the sponsors, Devenish.

Devenish Breweries featured very strongly in other ways in those days. For instance as soon as the racing was over on Friday evenings, instead of pulling back to the beach or the respective off-island, the gigs would be tied up against the quay and the double doors of the Steamship Company’s shed would miraculously open to reveal Jim Lethbridge (the first Chairman of the Isles of Scilly Gig Racing Association), handing out some serious beer from crates of Light and Brown Ales. Needless to say, this was just about enough fuel to get a bit of flying speed before retiring to the bars of Hugh Town. That is until political correctness crept in and the sight of public drinking and the odd trivial skirmish - usually over the eyesight and steering qualities of this or that coxswain - became too much for the great and good of St. Mary’s.

Friday night was Friday night in those days, when men were men and the women made the sandwiches. The Mermaid was the epicentre of social life and the only place to be seen when the rowing had been completed. New generations, whether they be rock stars or rowers always believe that they are the first to invent outrageous behaviour, but perhaps they should be advised to take a look over their shoulders at the antics of their parents and betters when they were young.

The Harbour Bar of the Mermaid was frequently left awash following ice-bucket and soda syphon fights - all of course, in the best possible taste. In fact, one of the chief architects of this mayhem was to become the Chairman of the Gig Racing Association for many years - Alfie Jenkins - and the other protagonist bears
a remarkable resemblance to the present owner of Star Castle Hotel and who is now the Islands’ Pilot. Perhaps the secret for getting away with such outlandish and extravagant behaviour that it was all pretty harmless - no-one was hurt, no-one was offended and everyone took it in good nature, although the long-haired gentleman who fell asleep at the bar and awoke to find himself remarkably shorn on one side of his head might disagree!

As for the rowing, well the fine details have largely been lost in the mists of time. Three crews were dominant however during those pioneering days and shared the glory for a few years at a stretch - the Czar, the Shah and the Bonnet – all crewed by fine local rowers, but even the Eagle and the Slippen rowers had their 15 minutes of fame and none of them used a smuggled outboard motor belonging to the Prime Minister as did the Serica in one race from St. Martin’s in later years, almost bringing cardiac arrest to the crew of the Nornour who were leading at the time.

The advent of more and more competitiveness, the new generations of gigs and the explosion of interest in Cornwall and further afield has led to an inevitable loss of innocence. Overall though, that is not bad thing. Whenever a sport is developed it is in the nature of things that the participants will try harder to beat what has gone before. That has happened in gigs as it has happened in every other activity ever invented and rowing is no exception. However, for all this admiration and pursuit of excellence, it is essential to remember that nowadays, when you don’t have to do it for a living, rowing should always be enjoyable and as long as the sense of fun is not totally submerged in the pursuit of silverware, then the long history of the Cornish and Scillonian gigs will continue through into the next century and beyond.

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