Rowing, Rhythm and a Team That Moves as One
In early October, I spent a full day at the academic rowing competitions at the Krylatskoe Rowing Canal. The HSE team took part in the races, and I came not as a casual visitor but as the event’s photographer and videographer. My plan was to show what happens on and around the water when a student team turns weeks of practice into minutes of performance. By evening my batteries were close to empty, my memory cards were full, and I had a new respect for both the sport and the people who choose it.
Academic rowing has always been a mystery for me, I have never thought that it can be so interesting and entertaining.
The setting made a strong first impression. On a map, the Rowing Canal is just a straight line of water. However, in person it feels like a long mirror that gathers light and movement. Lanes stretch neatly and the banks are lined with trees in early autumn color. When the wind drops the surface turns smooth and carries a perfect reflection of boats and sky. It was very quiet there, so as a calm person, I really appreciated it. I walked the path with two cameras and kept stopping just to look. The landscapes were striking and calm at once, and they set a generous frame for the day.
HSE’s base was easy to find. Of course, our logo is catchy and it was hard not to notice it. Moreover, you could hear friendly voices, short checklists, and quick jokes. I was impressed by how open and supportive the athletes were. When it was time to launch, the chatter softened and the work began. The group felt very close, and you could see it in how they lifted a shell together and in how they listened to the coxswain.
My job required switching between stills and video all day. I tracked boats during warm-ups and filmed the small rituals before each race. I tried to time my shutter to the rhythm of the stroke, as this moment is brief. It asks you to learn its tempo and respect it. By the third race I was counting in my head and learning to anticipate the catch and the finish.
I introduced myself to many athletes and even recorded short interviews between races. Most conversations began with the same easy phrase: “Sure, I have a minute”. We talked about their majors, their first steps in the sport, and what they love and what still feels hard. I met coxswains who speak gently on land and with absolute clarity on the water. I met novices who cannot yet name every boat class but already know how a good stroke should feel. I also met seniors who see practice as a lesson in patience, communication, and care for the person sitting in front of you.
Two rowers from the men’s squad gave me a quick language lesson. They spoke of “rate” and “ratio” – how many strokes per minute and how the drive and recovery share each second. They joked about “catching a crab” and its dramatic cousin, the “flying crab”. They showed me the “puddles”, these are the round swirls the blade leaves on the water, and talked about the boat’s “run”, the clean glide between strokes when the hull carries speed on its own. “Set” is simply balance, when the shell feels quiet under you. “Check” is the opposite, a small brake you create when hand heights or timing slip and the bow nods. “Pieces” are structured intervals of work, such as two minutes or 500 meters. A “power ten” means ten strokes with extra pressure on the drive, usually called by the cox to change the race. On land the indoor rower is simply the “erg”.
Talking about my interviews, I recorded them in short moments: three minutes while a boat was lifted, five minutes on the bank waiting for results. I asked everyone the same last question: “Why this sport?” The answers were quite honest and simple. “It makes me braver in everyday life”. “It gives me a place to be useful”. “The water tells me what to do, I like this feeling of unity”. “I like the way my body looks after practice”. None of it sounded rehearsed, it felt honest and sincere. I left those talkings with a lot of motivational notes. As for me, it was very significant to hear such words, because they make you feel delighted.
The water tells me what to do, I like this feeling of unity.
Technique came up in almost every chat. Rowing looks like an upper-body activity, yet the legs are the engine. On the drive the athletes press against the foot stretcher to send the boat forward. The force moves through the body as the back swings from the legs. When the sequence is right, the boat glides perfectly. It was fascinating to learn how completely the whole body participates: legs, back, and arms moving in a clear order that repeats again and again. When I slowed the footage on my laptop later, I could see the same story: patient hands at the catch, legs first, then body, then arms and a quiet release.
Watching from the side teaches you small details that are easy to miss. Shoulders create a single line when a crew is truly together. A loud splash can mean energy lost, and a soft hiss can mean a boat that rides cleanly on its speed. Coaches and athletes use these clues to make changes that are hard to see but easy to feel. Some of these signals were clear on camera, others I understood later while editing.
The races added another layer of meaning. A straight course looks simple, but two thousand meters contains many decisions. Crews build speed at the start, then settle into a sustainable rate. The middle section demands patience. The last five hundred demands nerve and loud calls from a coxswain. It was very unexpected for me to hear these exclamations from a girl, who seemed very delicate and small at first.
Weather brightened up the day. It was sunny in the morning. Unfortunately, there was also a crosswind that arrived in the afternoon, but some adjusted and made the wind a training partner, treating the day like feedback. A coach reminded them that good habits turn small problems into solvable tasks. The team nodded, reset foot stretchers, and prepared for the next outing. It was calm and practical, and it showed how a friendly group can also be disciplined.
One small moment stayed with me. A younger rower left a boat unhappy with her performance. She said little and stared at the water. A teammate rested a hand on the oar handle and they spoke for a few seconds. The younger athlete’s shoulders relaxed, and a few minutes later she joked about blister tape and joined the group for the next task. That is team culture in real time, and I was amazed by it.
Many people see race days and medals. The hidden hours are less visible, but not less essential, so I asked about winter training and heard about early alarms and long sessions on the indoor rower. It was very interesting, because I had never heard about this kind of training in detail. Athletes described steady-state days that feel like meditation, strength circuits that leave the legs humming, and technical drills.
Working behind the camera changed the way I think about storytelling. Good shots are not just about sharp focus or perfect lighting. They are also about respect for the people you film. I tried to build sequences that made the story clear: a wide shot to show the place, a medium one for posture, and close-ups on details. In video, I kept the shots longer so the rhythm could be felt.
At university we care a lot about numbers and results. They matter here too, but that weekend felt deeper than just times and rankings. It showed how a group of students built a supportive environment, which is significant for every sport. Newcomers felt included, seniors shared advice and patience. The team understood that caring about people and caring about technique go hand in hand. When those two things come together, the boat moves better. That is the whole point.
Walking away from the docks that evening, I took more than just photos and videos, I carried a story worth sharing. So, what is the point of this article? I urge you to visit more events connected with our university, Higher School of Economics. In early October, the rowing competitions at the Krylatskoe Canal gave us great racing and a reason to cheer for HSE. They also showed how to build a real community. The views were beautiful, but what impressed me most was the team’s unity: it looked like sport, and it also looked like a lesson in how to learn and work together.
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