The sport at which we excel

writer and photographer ROB SHAW
30 FortySouth

As Hobart’s early-morning commuters pass by in warmth and comfort 50 metres above, a handful offar more exposed vessels glide almost soundlessly
through one of Tasmania’s most recognisable structures. Water dripping from airborne oars is the only sound as intrigued cormorants watch on from the dropping-encrusted base of a Tasman Bridge support tower. An inquisitive seal pops upto check out this unexpected human interaction, then swiftly returns to its cold, murky habitat, content that they pose no threat. 

It is 5.54am and despite being in the centre of a state capital, nobody appears aware of this group of passionate individuals. Because they mostly operate in exposed locations at ungodly hours, our state’s legion of rowers goes largely unnoticedby their fellow Tasmanians. And yet they are perhaps the most dedicated and hardy of outdoor pursuiters – a high bar on one of the planet’s southern-most outposts, as evidenced when the rowers pass the Antarctica research vessel Nuyina.

A healthy dump of snow caps kunanyi and, though the breeze is light on this particular morning, it arrives from the mountain’s direction, ensuring temperatures remain locked in low single figures. But warm clothing not much in evidence. Limbs are mostly exposed; gloves are a definite non-starter as they hinder a rower’s feel for their finely balanced boat. It is the eve of the AFL Grand Final, but for all the publicity and hype surrounding those set to do battle at the MCG, it is these specialist performers settling for a different type of exposure who make a compelling case for partaking in Tasmania’s most successful sport. Of the 45 Tasmanians who competed at the Athens, Beijing and London Olympics, 20 were rowers. Before Ariarne Titmus redefined the parameters of Tasmanian sporting success, a third of the state’s Olympic medals and half of the golds came from rowing. Tasmania is to rowing what NSW is to Australian cricket. After a rare Tasmanian rower-less Olympics in Paris, this devoted band is among the latest crop tasked with extending the impressive rowing heritage, and is training under the expert tuition of the Tasmanian Institute of Sport. Similar groups operate elsewhere in the state, from the Mersey to the Huon, with school, club and masters rowers underpinning the sport’s elite level. Launceston clubs Tamar and North Esk compete for space on the rivers which bear their names alongside the next generation courtesy of Scotch Oakburn, Grammar and St Patrick’s College. Also hitting the water long before most Launcestonians are hitting snooze buttons, this flotilla generally sets off from where the North and South Esk riversmerge. Just over 6km north, the Tamar River trebles in width and the island which shares its name looms out of the morning mist like it has been transported from the pages of Arthurian legend.
As crews utilise the broad expanse to turn around, a welcome appearance from the sunprompts a mass shedding of layers as beanies get
swapped for sunnies.The local government hot potato of the Tamar’s abundant silt has a huge impact on proceedings
Rowers pass beneath the Tasman Bridge shortly before daybreak FortySouth 31 and, out of necessity, every Launceston rower swiftly becomes an expert on the river’s treacherous, muddy shallows.
The jewel in the crown of Tasmanian rowing venues is Lake Barrington. Located 8km west of Sheffield, it sits at the base of a twisting access road and was the picturesque venue for the 1990 Rowing World Championships, one of the rare times our state has staged the global showpiece of an Olympic sport.
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As each rower returns, invigorated, to their club, swift turnarounds define busy schedules. Nearly all have day jobs to juggle with their on water commitments. Experiencing a tiny fraction of the fanfare or indeed financial reward of many fellow elite athletes, professional rowers are as rare as amateur AFL players. 

ROB SHAW was born and raised in England where he trained and worked as a journalist. Coming to Australia in 2002 with his young family was supposed to be temporary, but Tasmania had other ideas. He has since spent his time working as a sports reporter, exploring our state’s wilderness and realising that he is staying here for the term of his natural life.