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Jul 27, 2023

How I stuck my oar in

Venetians are reviving a centuries-old rowing tradition to promote a sustainable way of getting around, and to show visitors the city at its most authentic One of the clues to how Venice was built is

Venetians are reviving a centuries-old rowing tradition to promote a sustainable way of getting around, and to show visitors the city at its most authentic

One of the clues to how Venice was built is the stone it’s built on: the white, pocked stone capping the fondamente that line the city’s canals is pietra d’Istria – a type of limestone that was quarried in what is now Croatia. So how did it get to the other side of the Adriatic sea, to form the foundations of Venice? By boat, of course.

“The city was built with traditional boats and for traditional boats. You have to see the city from the water to understand it,” says Emiliano Simon, one of the founders of Venetian rowing and boating association Venice on Board, as we stand on the white stone next to its offices in the northern Cannaregio district.

Since its inception, Venice on Board has been restoring traditional boats and offering tours of the canals away from the main tourist sites, as well as lessons in voga alla veneta (Venetian rowing) for visitors and locals. It has restored about 12 boats, dating from the 1950s to the 80s, from a nimble wooden lagoon boat called a topa to an enormous gondola-like sandolo. I’m here to have a tour and lesson in a mascareta, a light and easily manoeuvrable wooden boat often used by women in competitions.

The art of rowing and the use of these boats has almost died out since the second world war, Emiliano tells me. While his grandfather had rowing lessons at school, interest faded as motorboats became cheaper and more popular. “There’s a huge generation gap,” he says. “Our grandparents all know how to row – but now I’m the one teaching my father!” As well as being noisy and polluting, motorboats cause a swell that damages the city’s foundations and the association is on a mission to resurrect the old ways and promote a more sustainable way of getting around.

The Venetian way of life is at risk of being subsumed entirely by the voracious mass tourism. This year, the number of tourist beds officially surpassed the number of residents. Many Venetians are leaving the city, unable to afford rents that have been driven up by lucrative short-term tourism rentals. More and more motorboats transporting tourists, including the dirty public vaporetti, are clogging the canals. In September, the city narrowly avoided being added to Unesco’s list of heritage sites in danger for the second time, after the local government stuck a plaster on the problem by deciding to put in place an entry fee for the city on the busiest days of the year. The first time around, in 2021, the government agreed to ban cruise ships from entering the city, although they can still go through the lagoon.

As I step into my mascareta, it wobbles dangerously. “The boats tip a lot because the bottom is flat. They’re built like that because the lagoon is so shallow,” he says, adding that traditional boats can navigate vast swathes of the lagoon that motor boats can’t. Unlike much of the Mediterranean, this end of the Adriatic is tidal, and now, at low tide, the boat feels very low in the water. Among the gunky algal blooms I see empty mussel shells encrusting the stone walls beneath the tide line, their opalescent insides flashing occasionally in the sunlight. Emiliano starts to row, standing at the stern. Apart from the glistening black gondolas full of tourists, it’s unusual to see people rowing down the canals.

Our tour doesn’t take us to any of the main sights, but stays within the Cannaregio canals, in a neighbourhood that thrums with local life: we could pass the rubbish collection boat or an Amazon delivery boat on its rounds. We head past Venice’s former Jewish ghetto. “This is the only place in Venice where you can find six- or seven-storey buildings, because they were forced to stay here and so had to expand upwards,” says Emiliano. “Venetians say we have the first ever skyscraper.”

It’s time for Emiliano and I to switch places. I stand up gingerly, take the oar and place it in the forcola, the Venetian oarlock carved in a shape reminiscent of a treble clef. He shows me how to slice the water and, importantly, teaches me the vocabulary: the warning Òe! (Watch out!) as you approach a blind bend, followed by either A premando (on the left!) or A stagando (on the right!).

It quickly becomes clear how uncoordinated I am. It helps to not watch the oar but to look in the direction I’m going and slowly fall into a calm, meditative state, letting my arms carry out the action without thinking about it. Premando, stagando, premando, stagando, back and forth.

Lessons with Venice on Board are an hour long, but it takes many hours to be truly proficient. There are two phases to master: basic manoeuvres, then doing them fluidly and elegantly. Venice on Board says clients are mostly foreign students in the summer, while locals take lessons all year round. But the dream of seeing Venice’s waterways full of rowers will take a long time to realise. The motorboats make the canals unwelcoming for learners, and the authorities have been criticised for not enforcing speed limits or making efforts to reduce heavy boat traffic.

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We make slow progress up a small side canal. From this level, I notice details I would otherwise miss: a drainpipe trailing down the side of a building like a vine is decorated at its end with a stone face rubbed smooth by the water, the mouth forming a hole for water to gush out of.

We approach a larger canal with more traffic and Emiliano takes back control. I sit down gratefully. He shouts, “Òe, a premando!” as we glide towards a bridge. Somewhere to our left, we hear the low rumble of a motorboat getting closer. It rounds the bend and ploughs straight into us, making our boat rock wildly and wedging both vessels awkwardly under the bridge. Emiliano drops the oar and crawls on to the prow to inspect the damage.

As the man motors away, Emiliano shakes his head. “He was going too fast. He’s also using a ‘blue’ canal – you see these signs? These are canals limited to rowing boats only. Venetians complain about unsustainable tourism, but it’s them speeding up and down the canals and destroying the buildings.”

Strolling home, I find my gaze drawn to the canals. I’m seeing the neighbourhood in a new light: my tour has given me a different spatial awareness of the city, of how the patches of land that make up the city connect and intersect. Although Venice is a hugely walkable city, travelling around it by rowing boat is a completely different experience, and more sustainable than vaporettos or water taxis. I think about all the parts of Venice I haven’t yet seen and how much is left to explore – by water.

Lessons with Venice on Board from €50 for the first hour (including €20 joining fee), then €30 an hour thereafter