mind the slipway
by Liesl Jobson
I've been told I'm scary. I try to sound less bossy when I prompt my crew.
Stand tall. Hips over ankles, shoulders over hips.
At least I put them in height order so the boat's weight distributes evenly. It's not hard to figure this out, but nobody does it, so too often the tall girls get stuck in the middle, carrying more than their fair share, straining their backs.
Use your core to lift. Set your scaps when you carry. Navel to spine, walk in time.
How many times must I say this? Walk in time with the girl upfront to eliminate boat bounce. Why is this important? Boat bounce bruises your shoulders. Doesn't it hurt enough already?
Slow down on the jetty. Take little steps.
The non-slip coating has worn away. In summer the algae thrives and blooms. Entering the water is like walking on soap.
Feel for traction underfoot before shifting your weight. Easy does it.
The yacht club is nearly bankrupt. They don't have staff to sweep the slipway and nobody volunteers. Last week at the regatta a kid carrying a boat slipped, landing on her elbow on the concrete. The hull landed on her sternum. As I watched her go down I thought her head would split like a melon. My stomach turns to jelly thinking about it.
Hands across. Above heads...lift. Roll to waists. Gently into the water.
Should I say, "Please?" The concrete ending to the right of the entry point is invisible below the water. A sharp edge catches me mid-foot each time I step into the mud.
Mind the skeg on the hard. Don't mind the leeches.
We damaged a skeg at the last regatta, putting it down in rough water. Half way up to the start line the boat began to sink. Off the water, we discovered the skeg had ripped open the hull.
Open the gates where you are. Mind your fingers. Feet and gate face forward. Why is that stroke oar in the bow side oarlock?
Yippee! I have not actually screamed at anybody yet.
Pop the end of your sleeve over your thumb to check for sand in the rails.
This boat could be called Lazarus. It was seriously damaged in the accident which killed two UCT students towing the trailer.
This boat, ladies, is called Shesh'amanzi. It's Zulu, for rushing water, so we'll be going fast, right?
If you'll make it your business to ensure that we're not in a whipperwhirl, I'll be eternally grateful.
Swirl the mud off your feet before getting in. Butt on the seat. Shoe up. Number from bow when ready.
Can we go?
Liesl Jobson freelances in the Cape Philharmonic Orchestra and is a communications consultant for JumpStart Foundation, a maths education NPO in Johannesburg. She has a MA (Creative Writing) with distinction from Wits University and is the author of Ride the Tortoise(Jacana, 2013) and 100 Papers: a collection of prose poems and flash fiction (Botsotso, 2007) which won the Ernst Van Heerden Award. She coaches novices at the Alfred Rowing Club, Zeekoevlei. Twitter: @LieslJobson