Processing triumphantly along the Grand Canal in Venice, greeted by enthusiastic applause from the banks, saluted by a magnificent figure splendidly dressed as the Doge, accompanied by music and surrounded by glorious Venetian architecture, I felt as though I’d reached the pinnacle of my rowing career. It was my first time rowing the Vogalonga, and I felt like a rockstar – it was everything I had dreamt of and more.

Colourful, chaotic, convivial, carnival-like, the Vogalonga is a non-competitive regatta that starts in St Mark’s Basin, skirts the islands of Burano and Murano and ends up winding through in the heart of Venice, finishing at the end of the Grand Canal in front of the Basilica de Santa Maria della Salute. It started in the 70s as a protest against motorised craft damaging the palazzi and canals of this picturesque city, and has grown into an international event attracting crews of all kinds, from traditional gondoliers to stand-up paddle-boarders. The only restriction is that they must be self-propelled. For one day only, motors fall silent and the entire city is given over to human power only.

This year was the 50th anniversary of the Vogalonga, and having gone on about it for years it felt like the time was right to get on and actually make it happen, so when some rowing buddies suggested I form a crew with them, I signed up without a moment’s hesitation.

The start

If you’re one of those people who’s always fancied rowing the Vogalonga, here’s everything you need to know. As you’ll find out if you read on, being properly prepared can make the difference between bringing home a fabulous medal and a spectacular bank of memories, and drowning your sorrows in the bottom of the lagoon (possibly quite literally).

Take it seriously

Because it is so fun and vibrant, people often imagine the Vogalonga is just a jolly. But here’s the thing. Vogalonga means “long row”, and the clue’s in the name. The course itself is officially between 30 and 32 km, and to that you may need to add a good 5km each way from wherever you launch your boat. Although it’s not a race, and you are rarely exerting yourself (although on that point, read on), you will be rowing, quite possibly in intense heat, for many hours. Our own training was endlessly hampered by injury, illness and even surgery, but we still trained as much as we could. Towards the end I was doing two-hour ergs (steady state, with breaks, but still) and on the day there was never a moment when I felt this was overkill.

Embrace the chaos

You are one of 2,000 craft, many of whom are not remotely bothered by the traditional rules of navigation or racecraft. There is jostling and ramming and shouting. You can leave your British Rowing handbook at home, because the rules are thrown overboard from the moment you venture into the Basin. You will need an experienced and ice-cool cox who doesn’t get flustered and is capable of enjoying the chaos. It also helps if the whole crew can bring an attitude that the anarchy is part of the fun.

At the start, as you wait for the cannon to fire, you’ll be in a melee of boats with dragon boats zooming past at alarming speeds and crews doing unexpected things, often apparently unaware of the presence of other craft.

The melee at the start

For most of the event you’ll be rowing in a pack. Crews will cut in, randomly stop and turn, yell, swear, sing, bang drums, chat, celebrate and do all manner of highly unBritish things. It’s brilliant. To get an idea of what it looks like, here’s a time lapse video showing a small part of it, filmed from the bow: https://youtu.be/hbiZ_leuf5k.

Towards the end of the event, just as you turn into the city from your circuit of the islands, you’ll find yourself crammed into an unfeasibly small stretch of canal (at times with helmeted firemen in the water holding one or both ends of your boat and shouting incomprehensible directions), with nowhere to put your blades and crews descending on you at speed. It’s tremendous fun if you can just relax and enjoy it, but torture if you allow yourself to be stressed by it. We witnessed both. I’d definitely go for the former.

By the way, the end is equally chaotic. Your medals and certificates are hurled from a platform into the boat, and there’s nobody telling you where to go next. Make sure you’ve found out in advance.

Know the hazards

The waterways are shut off to motorised boats for the duration of the event, but as soon as it is considered to be over, they return in force. This could well mean you find yourself rowing back across the Lagoon – a substantial body of water – in serious chop. You might also (as we did) have to put on an unwelcome spurt of full-pressure rowing to evade a gigantic ferry bearing down on you with time to make up. Even if you manage to finish and return to base before the hordes return, the Lagoon isn’t guaranteed to be as calm and glassy as it was on the day we did the event. I don’t want to dwell on it, but I know of two crews who ended up sinking, and others that abandoned their boats before getting them back to their trailer.

Make sure your boat is suitable for all conditions. We were fortunate enough to be in a broad, stable, coastal boat with a channel down the middle for the water to flow freely. We hired it from a local club and never had a moment’s anxiety about its sea-worthiness, even when getting tossed around on waves much bigger than we were used to. Anything finer than that is risky.

Our cox also asked me to mention that there were lot of sharp right hand bends and advised making sure you don’t take too tight a line around them as you can easily get caught.

Our excellent boat

Get organised

Entries filled up well in advance this year, with lots of disappointed customers. Get organised early.

There’s nothing to stop you making all the arrangements yourself and bringing your own boat; it’s by far the most cost-effective way to participate in what can be a very expensive trip. There are places to store your boats overnight, but be aware that launching from these places can be chaotic, time-consuming and challenging. It’s also worth checking the opening times of these spots to ensure you have access when you need it.

If you can afford it, the alternative is to pay pay a local rowing club to handle the arrangements. Some will put in your entries, arrange your tourist taxes, hire out boats and help on the day. Although we initially baulked at the price, we went for this option as we were all stupidly busy in the run-up to the event. We were incredibly glad we did, and agreed it was worth every penny to have a Venetian fixer to take the stress off our hands and give us the benefit of local knowledge.

Either way, do make sure you spend some time reading the FAQ and rules on the Vogalonga website. You should also memorise the course and have a laminated copy of it on board –  it sounds obvious but it’s easy to forget in all the excitement.

View from our Italian host club

All kitted out

We spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about what we were going to bring, but even then I felt when we got there that I had more to learn.

Attire. Your “race kit” should be adaptable to all weathers. It does often rain there, even in late May, but you can also find yourself rowing in blistering heat. Some people wear fancy dress of various kinds – if you do this, just bear in mind how far you’re rowing. We were in Monmouth all-in-ones, which was fine, but didn’t give me enough sun protection for that length of time in the sun, so I ended up slinging on a pale, linen, long-sleeved shirt that I happened to have with me, for part of the event. With hindsight, I wished our kit had been a light, reflective colour, with reasonable coverage of the shoulders and upper arms, in a light fabric. Wear something on your head, whatever the weather. I lost count of the times I dipped my cap in the water to keep cool, and without it I’m pretty sure I’d have had heat stroke.

Seat pad. You may be in your boat for more than six hours, allowing for rowing there and back and faffing at the beginning and end, and if you’ve ever done a distance event you’ll know the benefits of a decent seat pad. I had the booster seat grip from my old friends, Godfrey, and it was excellent (side note: the extra height is also very useful at home for a pint-sized rower like me when you find yourself in a big tank of a boat built for giants).

Snacks. It’s a long day and you’ll almost certainly want to refuel as you go. We didn’t eat a huge amount in the boat, but we were glad of the snacks we brought to boost our energy. I brought home-made biscuits made from ground almonds, honey and tahini, which were portable and gave me a lift when I was starting to flag, and I had electrolytes in one of my bottles of water.

Water. Bring more than you think you need. I drank more than two litres of water (some with electrolytes, as above), and was still a bit dehydrated at the end. There is a water station en route (at Burano, I think) but I suspect it only provides a small bottle per person, and in any event we managed to miss it. We were really worried beforehand that we were going to need a wee while we were rowing, and had discussed various options at length, including portable urine bags (yup, they’re a thing, although you really, really don’t want to go too far down that particular internet rabbit hole), but in the end it was so hot we found it wasn’t a problem.

Dry bag. Your kit is very likely to get wet. The coastal boat we were in allowed water to flow through just where you’d keep your kit, and there’s often wash on the lagoon, too. A good dry bag, ideally attached to something in the boat just in case, is essential.

Cox box (or equivalent). If you hire a boat, it may not have one (ours didn’t). You might want to bring your own (or some kind of microphone) and find a way of rigging it up. Address this well in advance to ensure you have a safe and waterproof solution!

R.e.s.p.e.c.t.

In common with many popular tourist destinations, although Venice is dependent on its tourism it is also under threat because of it. The problems are concisely summed up here by Campaign for a Living Venice. Be aware that as a visitor to Venice you are part of the problem, and be sensitive to those Venetians who feel a combination of resentment and resignation towards you as a tourist.

There are various things you can do to alleviate the impact of your visit and respect the Venetian way of life.

• If a local is rude to you because you’re a tourist, suck it up and move on.
• If you can afford it, stay in a locally owned hotel.
• Ensure that any shopping you do (such as Murano glass and Burano lace) benefits the local economy – buy authentic, certified products rather than the ubiquitous, cheap, Chinese knock-offs (and if you can’t afford the real thing, remember you don’t have to buy anything).
• Avoid tourist watering holes and instead track down independent family-run bars and order a spritz (I discovered I preferred Campari spritz to Aperol, but I’ll happily drink either!) along with local cicchetti (Venetian tapas).
• Observe Venetian regulations and etiquette: avoid picnicking on bridges, sitting on the steps of monuments, and dragging suitcases on wheels through narrow, residential streets.
• Make a donation to one of the funds that benefits the city, culture or ecology of Venice. There’s the Venice in Peril fund (remember the 25p donation to this fund from the now-discontinued Pizza Express Veneziana pizza?!); the Waterlands project (focused on ecology); Save Venice (which focuses on art preservation) and Campaign for a Living Venice (the one I chose to support).
• Finally, you might want to resolve just to do the Vogalonga once rather than returning year after year.

Let me know if the Vogalonga is on your bucket list. And if you have tips to share from your own experience of rowing the Vogalonga, I’d love to hear them.