JUST NORTH OF Buenos Aires lies the city of Tigre. The city sits on the southern edge of the series of rivers, rivulets, islands, and eyots collectively known as the Parana Delta, after the Rio Parana which breaks up as it reachs the Rio de la Plata. The town’s riparian geography combined with its closeness to Buenos Aires—a mere twenty miles from the Obelisco—make Tigre a popular weekend and summertime getaway. Since the 1870s, however, it has also been the birthplace and focal point of rowing in the country—Argentina’s Henley. (more…)
AND SO, THE ONWARD march of progress continues. Yale University’s old Adee Boathouse on New Haven harbor is to face the wrecking ball to make way for traffic improvements to the Pearl Harbor Memorial Bridge which carries Interstate 95 across the Quinnipiac River. Despite some quite extraordinary plans to physically cut the building from the shore and float it across to the opposite side of the river, it now appears that the boathouse is to be demolished. (more…)
Flipping through an old book called ‘Magical City: Intimate Sketches of New York’, I came upon this sketch of the Gould Boathouse of Columbia University on the Harlem River by Spuyten Duyvil. I had never come across this little building before and had significant doubts as to whether it was still there, but to my pleasant surprise it does. I’m afraid I don’t know much about the boathouse nor its history, but here follows a number of photos and images of it, and of various Columbia boathouses of the past. (more…)
Today we had the pleasure of participating in the Inverness IVs Head Race. It brought forth mixed results. The girls did really well, and one of the guys crews did really well. Our boat on the other hand managed to crash. Twice! But, you know, we added a dash of the spirit of Admiral Farragut, full speed ahead, etc., and still managed to finish the race. Only second to last. Pity the poor bastards who didn’t even manage to beat us. They would’ve had to have sunk or something not to have overtaken us.
Inverness is more or less the capital of the Highlands, thus it’s terribly far north. So far north that when we arrived I said “Why on earth would they stick a country so far north?” which most present found to be a generally amusing comment on the northerliness of our current position until one chap said “Well I’ve been skiing in Trondheim”. Mark my words, whenever one makes a salient point, there’s always someone who’s been skiing in Trondheim.
Nonetheless, we managed to return to St Andrews in a shockingly quick under three hours. I found a few minutes to chat online with Allison Burbage, who in conversation emphathised with the feeling that it is sometimes such a burden to be superior to so many people. Allison would know; she’s superior to most. Then she went away to nurse a G&T in the neighboring dorm room. These crazy kids.
During the past fortnight, I have been learning to row on the lagoon in Pelham Bay Park, a body of water with which I had no previous aquaintance. “Learning to row?” you ask. “But weren’t you in the University of St Andrews Boat Club during your bejant year?” Yes, dear reader, I was a full paid-up member of said body, but I was too busy avoiding lectures, failing courses, and other such frivolities of one’s first year at university to actually row, and only went to circuit training when Ezra Pierce irritated me enough that I felt obliged to give in and head on over. Nonetheless, at the suggestion of a good friend I decided to enroll in this program and have not regretted it at all. Rowing, in short, is addictive, and it is a grand shame that I shall have to wait until at least September in Scotland to get back on the water. (Above, the Travers Island clubhouse of the A.C. can be seen from the far end of the lagoon). (more…)