Opening ceremonies are weird affaires. There are usually lots of long speeches in which remarkably little is said. If I were to reinvent the whole concept I’d get everyone playing embarrassing team building games like hide the sausage which probably would be far more effective at breaking ice and creating a sense of community than nodding off to another rehash of the same speach.
That being said Macedonian opening ceremony excelled in two aspects. One; the speeches never overstayed their welcome and two; we had seats from which to endure them.
One part of opening ceremonies that I do enjoy are the cultural demonstrations. A dance performance by the local Skopje dance club gave off some fabulous Eurovison vibes (which had just aired a day or two previously) heightened by the random addition of the Aussies.
Finally there was a brief reception with drinks and sweet treats which gave us a nice opportunity to catch up with some of the Slovakians we’d lent an angle grinder to at Treignac the previous year. And you know what they say about folks who share angle grinders…
Then it was bus back to the flat for an earlyish bed, before the racing started tomorrow.
Competition
Classic day arrived and with it came the characteristic Macedonian weather we had expected but we’re now thoroughly unprepared for.
As always the conversation on the Bus to the event turned to what we were going to wear? Shorty or deck, long sleved/short sleeved/skins? What did I even pack? Following it’s standard pattern the debate was inconclusive, but I chose to stick with my shorty, not wanting to mess with a good thing.
In the starting order I found myself in a Macedonian sandwich. I’m not certain I’d enjoy this sandwich in every situation but I back myself in the classic and this gave me a good target to chase down and put me well enough from anyone who could try and catch me.
I’d developed a solid race plan through the practices that it was now time to impliment: keep it controlled through the sprint course and then pick it up until you roll into your grave at the finish.
Unfortunately races rarely go to plan, but for every mistake there is a lesson to be learnt. And the lesson for this race is that hot glue doesn’t work in hot countries. Back at the start of march, while it snowed outside and I was outfitting my boat in my flat, attaching my thigh foam with hot glue seemed like a great idea. That way, if I’d cocked it up, I could just heat it up and redo it. What I hadn’t anticipated is that the hot North Macedonian climate would heat it up for me. So, as I picked up my boat to go warm up, my knee foam fell out. With only 30minutes until my start there was no time to perform a proper fix so I just jammed the foam back in and splashed some water on the whole thing to try and cool it down in the hope it might help the glue to set again.
Mercifully they knee foam held for the race (only to comically fall out again as we strapped the boats to the roof of the shuttle) and everything else (bar a stich in my lat, screaming forearms andba recurring cough) went to plan and I managed a respectable 26th place and got the fastest Brit.
All in all the team put in a very good performances with the girls narrowly missing out on medals in K1 and the C2.
Day 2 of racing brought the classic team event, but this came ith a little extra spice.
In order for an event to be quorate there needs to be entries from at least 5 countries. Despite an ample amount of men’s C1 paddlers, only 3 countries had brought enough of them to make a full team (there are 4 international events in Europe this year which is a lot of holiday for unprofessional atheltes like us). Consequently the request had come through for some other countries to enter scratch teams and we were volunteered as tribute.
The gig came with a crate of beer courtesy of Czechs and Germans (assumeably as an advance thank you for their medals) and the only requirement was that at least 2 boats broke the starting beam. This was a requirement that the Italians took full advantage of. Their K1 man, who did not seem all to thrilled half a paddle, boldly declared he would do “one canoe” and only “one canoe”. Off the start he did one stroke, a full canoe, before sensibly evacualting the river via the starting raft.
We however were not feeling sensible. Spured on by a very successful practice, which involved surviving the 10m from the get on to the starting raft, we decided all 3 of us (with no prior C1 experience between us) would cross the start beam. This seemed to come as a bit of a surprise to the poor french man who’s boat I was borrowing. I’d say he looked moderarely alarmed, scurrying down the side as we wobbled our way down the course.
Rudely, our C1 classic team had been scheduled just 20minutes kr so before our K1 team and so there was no way we’d be able to complete the C1 team, even if we wanted to! Thus having succefully stayed upright through the first and second drops and navigating around the island we all scrapped intonthe 1st eddy that offered any reasonable chance of escape, much to the relief of our french friend. But as the onlookeres helped pull us from the boats we were met with a new sense of unfounded confidence. If we could make it this far, we could probably make it to the end of the sprint!
Our K1 classic team race proceeded with comparatively little drama. There may have been just a little bit of contact at the bottom of the sprint course between me and Phil that almost lead to a big spin out but it was well recovered and we pushed on well as a team through to the finish. We managed a very respectable 7th between us, which achieved our goal of being ‘the best of the rest’. The girls put in an even better race finishing 4th, just outside of the medals.
However the biggest event of the day was the Masters races! This was a great opportunity for us atheltes to watch our coaches demonstrate all the advice they’d been giving us, and to their credit they delivered. Jamie took home the bronze in his age category, Billy got silver in his and Mags beat out her other competitor to claim gold!
The sprints on the following day came and went with none of the K1s making it through to saturdays final. But nobody really cares about the K1 finals (right?). Everyone knows finals is for team racing!
Sprint teams always deliver on the drama with 3 boats screaming down the course nose to tail, desperately trying to not impede each other. While there was definitely one racing line for one boat, the course at Skopje offered multiple options for cramming 3 boats down it at the same time and there were many variations of lefts and rights and splitting islands on display.
Unfortunately the girls run went a little belly up, with Kerry fighting to avoid Katie’s head as it bobbed down in front of her. Us boys however focused on not repeating the same mistakes from the classic team, amd for this we were pretty successful. All clattering through the narrow gap after the finish with a pretty decent time.
However, now it was time for the main event. The MC1 team. Spurred on by our recent successes we fueled with a false sense of confidence. The Italian team definitely weren’t going to finish with Mr ‘One Canoe’ so, if we could make it to the finish we could be in with a chance of a medal! That is assuming one of the other competent teams had massive cock up (but anything is possible in team racing…)
As it happens, they didn’t have a massive cock up, but it was irrelevant anyway as, inevitably, we were the ones to cock up. It is said that pride comes before the fall, and if pride forgets he is missing half a paddle, he may discover that right hand side support stokes are ineffective at best.
After a particularly rousing start that saw nearly as many forward strokes as supports, I fell victim to the eddy lines and waves down the s-bend. Deciding I looked lonely, bobbing boatless down the couse, Phil took a tumble in the final stopper to add to the safety teams struggles. Alex meanwhile was the only one of us to make it down to the finish before promptly pissing it in next to boat control.
With safety deciding I wasn’t worth saving I did my best squirt boater impression as I swam through the swirly gap. I popped up coughing and spluttering only for boat control to shout to me “7C, you are needed for boat control, but you have no boat!”. At least we still had our beers!
Once again it fell to the masters were the ones to take home all the medals with Mags and Billy bagging some extra silver to smuggle back on the 3 day drive back home.
River Stench 
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