Originally published 8/24/16
If you'd ever like to test the mettle of your marriage, hire a punt and punt you and your spouse down the Cam to the quaint village of Grantchester, a mere two miles and country walk away. I suggested we walk, for the record. Michael insisted we punt. Punting is a romantic looking boatride where the cute little English fellow pushes you through the still waters of the Cam and under its ancient bridges, the two identifying landmarks that gave Cambridge its name, and tells you witty and interesting stories about the history of the College Backs - those parts of the colleges of Cambridge University viewable only from a punt on Cam.
You get to see the dormitories of St. John College, for instance. The dorm where I lived in college, called the "Honeycombs" because of their concrete hive-like appearance, did not look like these, below right.
The College Backs are a thing, really. There are 31 colleges that make up Cambridge University, and they all have their own dorms, libraries, dining halls and academic quads. The city of Cambridge then, is just one college after another. And they all have rivalries. St. John, for instance, does not have a clock in the clock tower above, and so Trinity College, it's next door rival, rings it clocks twice every hour; once to let Trinitarians know what time it is, and then so St. John students can know the time.
That's English humor for you.
Will, our guide, was so cute, and brilliant and such a good punter. In the College Backs, it's a very crowded riverway, as there are many punting companies working the tourists. He glided us through brilliantly and expertly.
There's no reason Michael can't do that.
There's Will, with the Bridge of Sighs behind him. There are probably a dozen pedestrian bridges that cross the Cam. Many are private and only students of the colleges can use them to get from the main campus to the "backs."
We took a ride with Will so we could get a hang of how you punt. It's much like a gondola, I would imagine, but the boat is flatter and wider. But Will stands on the back and pushes it with the pole; the river probably isn't much more than 5 feet deep, so it's doable.
Will took us down the College Backs, where we departed from our tour so we could get going to Grantchester on our own. Grantchester is a quaint town two miles south of Cambridge. It's featured in a BBC show of the same name; it tells the story of a priest and copper in the 1950s who solve murders in Grantchester and Cambridge. I wouldn't want to be a member of Sidney's church; someone dies every week!
There's also the Orchard Tea house, which isn't featured in the show, but which we had heard was the actual destination in Grantchester. It's only two miles away, which you can walk easily on a path, or punt gracefully on the Cam.
Things are not always as they seem.
We rented a smaller punt, one that would fit 5 instead of 12, but nonetheless the smallest one they offer. After a 30-second tutorial, they sent us on our way, telling us it would take about an hour and half to get to Grantchester. It's only two miles away. We didn't do the math. Punting is a slow, luxurious, un-American-like activity. You push and glide, push and glide.
Well, there's also steering. With the first push we went straight into the row of punts, and the girl had to push us off. With the second push we went to the other side of the river, jammed into the concrete barrier. With the third push, we zig-zagged again, to the other side of the river. It was like the first time I skied: went sideways, fell down, flipped my skis over, and skied sideways again, fell down, flipped my skis and skied sideways again.
And the pushing was hard. It's a rather large, heavy boat for just one inexperienced person to push, so I got out the emergency paddle (in case you lose the pushing pole) and paddled like mad. I'm sure the Scudmore's crew (that's the punting company) was giggling at us as we zig-zagged away from the dock. Like a pinball machine down the river. It must have been a sight.
Michael at the dock, left, certain he is ready to do this.
We went on like that for some time, lucky that we picked early morning to do this, and there were few people on the river. And those we did encounter were so nice. Especially the man and his family who glided by in their punt, and instructed Michael on how to use the pole as a rudder. Well, that instruction changed our trip for the better. He had been treating the 15-foot aluminum pole as an oar, lifting it from side to side, unable to manage the direction of the boat. And I, paddling blisters into my hands and knots into my shoulders, couldn't manage the large boat either.
My back was also to Michael the entire trip as well, so I couldn't tell what he was doing, and so was prone to barking orders, as wives are programmed to do.
And, we were going upstream. Even though it's a gentle river, when you're struggling with technique, direction and momentum, upstream only adds to the frustration. We thought we'd never get there.
Two hours into our journey, we finally just pull over and get out. Grantchester was nowhere in sight, and we knew we had to go back eventually. Luckily, there's also a walking path along the river, and we were able to ask some ladies where the town was, and they told us it was just across the cricket pitch and into the woods.
At last, we had arrived at the Orchard Tea Garden. It's amazing what a little cream tea and a scone will do to revive the soul.
You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. Psalm 71:20
David was crying out to God in his old age, once again asking for God's help to revive him, to bring him up from the depths of earth. Michael and I didn't exactly cry out to God to save us from the depths of punting on the Cam, but it was certainly a test of our togetherness and a challenge to us physically. Tea and lunch and a prayer were God's gift to us, as we had to return to the boat and steer it back to Cambridge.
On the way back, we had a little help from the gentle current, and Michael had grasped the ruddering technique. Good thing, because by that time, the river had began to fill up, and we were able to quite enjoy it. We passed nude sunbathers, teenagers swinging from trees, cows grazing gracefully, melancholy guitar players, lovers kissing, tourists boating and old men fishing. Michael chatted with all of them, taking in the graciousness of the English.
We finally got the hang of it.
Today we are sore but laughing at the frustrations of yesterday. We are revived by a good night's sleep and toast and tea this morning, and look forward to another day that, with the grace of God, will challenge and delight us.
Comments