The Vogalonga (Long Row) and the Henley Whalers -2011

A Voga Virgin's View

Not since Robert Benchley was sent to Venice and telegraphed his Editor STREET FLOODED. PLEASE ADVISE can a journalist have arrived in Venice less prepared than I was for the reality.

I had been woefully misled. It was Voga Longa not Bunga-Bunga Longa. Andy Murray was enduring Tsonga Longa at the French open. Fred Goodwin was meanwhile enjoying Wonga Longa (that's enough longa jokes - Ed).

True, you get great views of the outer islands, but at some effort. By then the heat and 27 camparis has ensured delirium was setting in, if not dementia, so I assumed we must have reached Corfu (as in Corfu what a scorcher). What I thought I could see through the sweat, tears and blood (well, OK, just running sunblock) was the leaning tower of Murano turned out to be Geoff at the helm. Row, row under a searing sun... I imagined a sneering prison camp guard saying: 'Keep rowing, Engleesh peeeg! Oh, so sorry, Robin, Welsh peeeeg.'

I didn't see the crew member called Tone, but apparently he was lowered repeatedly during the day. Actually, it wasn't really that bad - just the odd comment such as pointing out that Bob's rowlocks were creaking ominously. True, there was some aesthetic (or asthmatic) appreciation from the crew of miniskirted Green Goddesses (lovely curves, so, so gorgeous - we're taking about the boat, honestly!) but frankly the fact they were effortlessly overtaking while pushing gently on a few grissini was of more concern.

The distaff side of our crew were just as bad, I can report from my vantage point just astern of two such. Their sheer incredulity that fat balding Italians of about 65 could think it acceptable to appear with a paunch hanging over their budgie-smugglers brought on the giggles. I thought it was nice of Mr Berlusconi to come and support us (with his two minikini clad grand-daughters too, clearly a trustworthy family man). When we reached the Cannaregio, the scene was indescribable. A bit like Hanger Lane gyratory on August Bank Holiday but a bit wetter surface (have you seen British bank holiday weather? - Ed). The reactions of the locals was unbelievable - there were Venetians at every window. The beggars might at least have raised the blinds.

So what suggestions can a newcomer make? In-flight melon ice cream tubes lowered from a launch cruising alongside (like those air-to-air refuelling things for jets), a pair of Evinrude outboard motors, chap in the bow with a drum and a knotted whip ('Faster, Geoff wants to go water-skiing!). Rowing speeds could be given in Italian music notation. 'Andante.' 'Pizzicato for a few strokes, then legato.' 'Allegro con Adagio Multo Doloroso' - (No, that would remind me of my humiliating patriotic car purchase in the Seventies).

Talking about fantasies, Bella Pippa from the Green Goddesses could put a garland of flowers round our necks rather than some urchin (chavi, claro) flinging medals somewhere near the boat (where are they - at the bottom of the canal?). That and stopping somewhere in the shade for lunch. Inferno horrendo.

Sunday night, I was less able to sit down than the day after Southall's finest Ring of Fire vindalissimo. Oddly, apart from a few insect bites, everything seemed to be pretty well OK after only 16 glasses of red.

Sue Turner said she got through it by being in a sort of trance. Talk about taking your work home. No seriously I do understand that to get through such as experience you have to go to another place. Sadly, no one explained it was Dubrovnik.

High praise must go to Ellie who had, I'm told, never rowed this kind of distance and did so in broiling heat (Gas Mk 6 in old money) while retaining good humour and an elegant style. Plus she brought the average age of the crew down to merely 89.

All in all, as another first-timer, (and old-timer), I'd say it was an extraordinary experience physically and team-wise and offered superb views of Venice and the outer islands which few tourists would ever see. That and the feeling of being part of something great, something in my ignorance  I'd never known was possible (not 'never known', as you know it now - chief sub. Alright, Robin, 'Not known'. You mean 'All right'. Arghhh!). Next month's more unknown challenges: Underwater hang-gliding, free fall parachute flower arranging and Gobi Desert ice sculpture. Scorchio!

Many thanks to all those who clearly do so much to put these things together and congratulations to all survivors. Hope the ointment works. Bravi tutti! Stupdendissimo! Collapso!

Ben le Vay, 2011