Oxford Cardboard Boat Races

Even the name of the races sounds like a joke. Cardboard boats? These races have been taking place for 27 years, and are a much loved summer farce under the summer sun and over the blue waters of the bay. The event includes the ubiquitous over-cooked hot dogs, somewhat soft ice cream, and overly sugared sodas stands, crying babies and young steely eyed lads skipping stones on the water. The proceeds benefit the Special Olympics so it’s all good.

The rules, such as they are, suit the occasion:

1. the boat must be constructed of cardboard; no restrictions on the type of cardboard. 
2. only three board feet of wood is allowed, be it three 1”x12”x12”, or 1”x1”x36” -- any mutation will do but only three board feet.
3. boats must be biodegradable, ergo the paint can only be water based.
4. fasteners may be staples, string or tape (duct, masking, scotch or gaffer).
5. all persons on crafts must wear life jackets and only one paddle per person per boat. 

Armed with beach chairs, suntan lotion and our very best flip-flops, we arrived, prepared for this most grand occasion at this beautiful town, and thrilled to be water front observers, having arrived by ferry boat an hour earlier to stake out our spots. Yes, a ferry boat travels between one waterfront town and another and charges the handsome price of $5 for a return trip.

The pre-event begins with a coterie of local seniors who walk into the water to see, literally, whether it is cleaner than last year and to determine how well the oysters are doing their work. The oysters can heal the bay like no other contraption made by mankind. A single oyster can filter and clean 50 gallons of water per day so it is incumbent on the local two legged animals, us, to keep the oysters safe and allow them to go forth and multiply. It’s almost biblical. This year the walkers were able to see 3.5 feet deep before the waters turned muddy. A step up from last year and a cheer that the oysters were doing their work. 

After a stirring rendition of the National Anthem, we were ready to sit comfortably in our chairs and await our first race. The official races were ready to start. Let the guffawing, chortling and knee slapping begin. 

The “Iron Man” race is a race between the iron men of law: police, sheriff, fire and DNR departments.  Money was on either “Pistol” (the police) or “Trooper” (the sheriff). The other boats sank immediately. The start gun shot blasted and Pistol immediately tried to T-bone Trooper. Treachery and guile, however, did the police no good. Trooper’s men expertly worked in unison, oar, dip, turn, oar, dip, turn. And won the race.  

Of course, local politicos had to get into the act with their “Politicians” race. One boat, ironically, was named “Integrity” and won, but further inspection proved that it had more wood at its bottom than was allowed by the rules (see Rule 2). Nothing is sacred.

The “Childrens” race was charming, hilarious, heartwarming and left me with a certain nostalgia for the wondrous joys of childhood. The racers’ age limit was 15. Eight and nine year olds, judging by the inordinate amount of unevenly applied duct tape, clearly had put together their own boats, with very nominal assistance from their elders. My heart went out to the captain of the “Ark”. Clearly he ought to have considered a lighter first mate. Neither man went down with their ship; they merely floated away from their sinking boat into their parents’ arms, who then pulled the boats back to shore. Likewise, “Titanic” proved to be an ominous name for a boat, considering its name’s history and, once again, history repeated itself. Interestingly, the “Shark” won the race; probably the son of a lawyer. Fortunately for all, the races are held in about three or four feet of water, everyone is outfitted with life jackets and the only real pain comes to a young boater’s wounded ego, but even that is tempered with the joy that has been brought to others who came out to watch children and parents having fun on a hot summer’s day.

And lest we forget, there are prizes. The prizes, oh, the prizes: a well earned tee shirt that claims “I won. . .” or “I lost. . . ” or “I went down. . .” “at the Oxford Cardboard Boat Races”.  Ah, the lazy hazy crazy days of summer.