By Rob Whitehead
From the outside looking in, last year's race was a good result with a second place finish and a respectable time posted. It wasn't so much the fact that we lost the race as the manner in which we did that irked me. It is true to say for the days following the event, disappointment was my closest friend.
For this year's race, I’d like to be able to say I was inundated with requests to paddle but in reality I wasn’t. Not even Mike was knocking on my door. I’d had to work on Mike to get him to agree. However, not in the way a boxer works his opponent into submission (anyone who has seen the size of Mike knows that is not going to happen) but more akin to a small child constantly pestering a parent, please Dad can I have a pet, please dad can I have a hamster, I’ll clean its cage I promise. But the promise I’d made to Mike was more than cleaning up a bit of rodent crap. It was bigger than this, much bigger, get in a boat with me and I’ll get you to Westminster. This was big talk and I needed to back it up.
Mike and I had been thrown together as a scratch team at the Longridge Hasler two seasons prior. As we sat on the start line, I had looked at the other crews and thought we’d do well not to finish last. To our surprise we took the final spot on the podium. From then on, Mike and I raced together a lot in K2 before switching to C2 and digging for victory, never failing to be on the podium in the open boat but most importantly, we were enjoying ourselves. We even managed a second place finish on the Wye decent, old gits class. To put this into perspective James Treadgold was second in the K1 class and he is apparently one of the “Holy Trinity” of Newbury CC paddlers. Whereas Mike and I hadn't even been shortlisted for the 12 disciples.
In the build up to the DW, most people recommend at least 6 months training but I am fairly active and Mike is a keen cyclist who thinks of nothing of bicycling to Bath for a bacon bun on a Sunday. As such, the 30th of December saw our training start in earnest with a parkrun in Devizes and a paddle back to base. From then on we would be on the water at least two to three times a week. The weather was not in our favour, rain, rain and then more rain. This caused Thames Side One to be postponed and subsequently cancelled as was their second race. We did however manage to paddle most of the DW course and complete three waterside races. Our training program finished with a night time paddle on the Thames the week before Easter.
From the beginning of the year there was a lot of speculation as to where the race would finish or even if it would run at all. But then the announcement came that the senior crews would be going all the way to Westminster. At times this looked unlikely with low levels of entry and huge flow rates but with two weeks to go the entries went up, the rain stopped and calm seemed to descend. Momentarily, all was good. In the week leading up to the race we cleaned and prepped the boat, checked our kit, had a meeting with our support crew and planned a schedule for the race. We were looking forward to it now, there was an air of anticipation and reserved excitement on our part. But there was one crew who, if excitement alone could get them to Westminster, they’d be heading home with their medals before Mike and I had even turned onto the Thames. Having worked out the time we wanted/hoped to reach the tideway, a 12:30 start time was agreed. I suggested that we went to Devizes early and did the local parkrun, curiously this was met with a resounding no from Mike and our support crew alike. It wasn't as though we were about to take on the world’s longest non-stop canoe race? Instead we compromised and went for breakfast in Morrisons instead. With the boat and kit checked, number applied, tracker clipped onto Mike's buoyancy, our photos were taken and it was time to go. Having paddled up to the start with supporters cheering, a narrow boat chugged into the way, a short wait for clear water and we were off.
I set a steady pace, the sun was out and all was good. Locals wished us well as we paddled out of town, the first few miles passed by. On such a lovely day as we passed the White Horse we mused how nice it would be to be on a barge enjoying a cold beer. But that would have to wait for another day.
The miles were passing by and just as my backside lost all feeling, we reached Wootton rivers. We jogged across the road, put the boat back in the water, changed bottles, had food shoved in our mouths and we were on our way. The next few portages came and went but the rain had made the towpath very slippy. And as we jogged along one particularly muddy stretch, I slipped and landed full force on my shin, thankfully not dropping the boat. We reached the tunnel in good time and enjoyed clear, flat water. The marshals cheered us through the exit and we were soon at Crofton where we ran and then paddled the rest.
Bedwin came and went, then Froxfield, at Hungerford our friends were waiting to cheer us on, then through Kintbury and in no time Newbury and our first hot food stop. We were soon on our way towards Theale where we changed into warm clothes for the night section, it was here we saw the first boat retiring not having even made the Thames.
From here, the river winds its way down to Reading, a long portage at Fobney for a fallen tree and on into the county across Blakes and onto the Thames. Out at the compulsory portage at Dreadnought, our lights were checked, our friends from Southampton wished us well and we paddled on into the night. We passed through Sonning and then onto Shiplake. On reaching the island just before Shiplake lock we saw lights and movement and heard voices. Straining to see what it was in the darkness, we then made out a K2 half in the water, half in a fallen tree, with the crew sitting on the branches they assured us they were okay so we pressed on.
Mike was concerned we should be further away from the weir, I steered hard left but too hard, an eddie took the boat and I put us in a tree. I looked up to see Mike sat in the boat which I grabbed onto to steady myself and duly pulled Mike out of the boat too. Now I remember writing a schedule for the race, paddle, portage, hydrate, eat and then repeat but nowhere did it say stop the boat by putting your face in a tree and then pulling your unsuspecting partner out of the boat too. I had made a mistake, but as we know those who make no mistakes make nothing and we were making progress. With the boat refloated we made the portage and headed across the island to the pontoon get in. For those that don’t know, at Shiplake you enter the water right in front of the weir with the full force of the Thames pounding down behind you. The marshall held the back of the boat to make sure we got the bow out. I locked my feet in position. I had to get this right. 100% concentration, nothing less would do. We were off back in the flow once downstream we set a steady pace. We decided not to tell the support crew of our unscheduled dip so as not to worry them.
The portages came and went, being fed and watered by our enthusiastic support crews. The river was fast and unpredictable but at the right speed, manageable. At Hambledon we took some painkillers, this is where I realised DW paddlers are like ravers. We take pills to paddle all night, they take pills and dance all night. Thankfully, ours came from a local pharmacy and not a shady type at the local Spoons promising us the time of our lives. Nonetheless, I kept telling Mike we were having the time of our lives.
Sometime in the morning we reached Penton Hook and heard the news that the race was going no further than Teddington. The PLO had pulled the plug on the race for safety reasons, if only they had pulled an actual plug on the Thames and dropped the water levels. On hearing this we were gutted but not surprised, in all honesty we thought it may have been stopped earlier. Our supporters told me of crews losing their heads on hearing the news. Yelling and swearing, crying and complaining. Some even threw the towel in and retired, undeterred Mike and I paddled on. It had been hard work paddling through the night but as dawn broke it gradually became easier. Obstacles became more visible, flow easier to read, portages easier to navigate. Our support team told us as the race was ending at Teddington we could put our foot down but I'm not sure we had a lot left to give, were we not doing enough already? At the final portage at Mosley as we were thigh deep getting into the boat Alex and Rebecca pulled up alongside us (you may not have heard but she was doing the DW) and we paddled together out for the final leg. The speed of the water carried us down to the finish line in super fast time with the two Newbury boats crossing the line together in a manner that seemed fitting for the challenges we had just tackled together. It was a bittersweet ending, we had finished the race and had finished well but were not walking up the hallowed steps at Westminster. That would have to wait for another year…
Special Thanks
To our super support crews
Katie Richman: Junior Team Driver, putting up with the Whitehead boys
Alfred Whitehead: Chief Tracker and Navigator
Patrick Whitehead: Experienced Paddler, knowing just what to feed us when we needed it
Sergeant Major Shirley Keeton: Our most experienced DW supporter, knows more about DW than most of the paddlers
Jackie Masaero: Maker of the best flapjack on the course and very adept at putting socks on a grown man
Alison Richman: Special thanks for lending me your husband when he should be at home restoring the house (and looking after my dog)
Mike Richman: Thanks to Mike for having faith, I knew from the moment we put the boat in the water that we would get to the finish line. This was never in doubt.
