Tracksuit pant weather officially ended on 28 May 2009, marked by the Tuen Ng Festival otherwise known as the Dragon Boat Festival.

The date is based on the lunar calendar (fifth day of the fifth month) and it is said the winter woolies should not be put away until after the Festival in spite of it being ridiculously hot and humid on the days leading to the event. This is because the weather is considered ‘variable’ until this day has passed. This year was no exception with the day itself starting in a fit full of sunshine and degenerating into an impressive storm.

I was again at Stanley with my work team ready to race. The day was pleasant enough but quickly became overcast. The tide was so high that spectators had no dry area on the beach to stand. The tide took ages to go out and it was a long time before the beach could be seen. We were lucky enough to have a sponsored tent on high ground. Last year we had a boat but that this is one of the consequences of the ‘devastating financial tsunami’. At least we were still able to compete.

We had practiced for five weeks which is quite short. A strategy had been discussed and the crew for the two heats which we expected to be in were determined. Eighteen rowers, a drummer (the daughter of one on my colleagues – weight counts and drummer rhythm doesn’t as it’s very difficult to single out the sound of your own drummer with eleven other drummers belting away) and a steersman provided by the Stanley Water Centre sit in a rather skinny wooden boat with a dragon head on the front.

We waded down to our boat at the required time to be informed by an official that only 12 rowers were allowed in the boat due to the rough conditions of the sea. Quickly we worked out who the 12 were to be and assured those remaining they would be in the next heat. With that, we rowed out to the start. We were bailing all the way to the start and had to continue paddling on the right side of the boat as we were drifting.

The sea was certainly rough. I was reminded of George Costanza “the sea was angry that day my friends….” as an eerie quiet came over all the boats. It is normally not that silent at the start of a race with teams teasing and splashing each other, trying to gain whatever advantage possible. The quiet was bizarre and added to the nervous tension.

The gun went and so did we. We paddled hard and managed an impressive fourth against some stiff competition (never mind the elements). This meant our next race would see us in the final if we paddled well.

Our next team was selected. Unfortunately we didn’t realise that six male and female rowers were compulsory as we were more concerned with making sure everyone had a chance to paddle. I missed out on this turn and Mr Shallot was able to row in his first (and probably last) event.

While they were at the start line, after a one hour wait on shore, the officials counted how many females were on our boat and found one rower short. This meant the little drummer girl had to swap with one of the considerably larger male rowers. It was all either could do to hold on as the boat rocked back and forth. From the shore we watched them come in wondering why they were taking so long. At that distance, it was not possible to see the drummers had swapped.

Unfortunately that was the end of the paddling for the day but the partying was only just getting started. One highlight being on the way home when Mr Shallot fell asleep sitting on the esky in the MTR and fell off as we went around a corner.

Welcome summer.

* Thanks to Katherine K. Davis, Henry Onorati and Harry Simeone who wrote the original “Little Drummer Boy” in 1958.