Trent University’s Head of the Trent Regatta is many things to many people. 

Besides an excuse to get hammered in public, I mean.

For one, it’s homecoming for Trent alumni—a chance to return to their erstwhile stomping grounds, get drunk (on campus, granted, as opposed to downtown) and possibly run into a former professor, classmate, or ex-girlfriend. 

You know, a reminder of all the reasons you “loved” university, which is precisely why you left the minute you crossed the stage.

However, there’s perhaps an even more interesting aspect to this hallowed weekend than listening to “Glory Days” by Bruce Springsteen in a fenced-in parking lot and trying desperately to remember the name of the person who just approached you saying “remember me, man? From Canadian Studies 1500H in 1996?”; did you know that Head of the Trent has rowing?

I know it may be hard to believe, especially from an outlet as notoriously sports-averse as Arthur, but I can assure you with 100% honesty and accuracy that Head of the Trent appears to have had—for several years, unbeknownst to most Trent students—a regatta which runs concurrently with it whose route goes smack-bang through the middle of campus.

Naturally, in the interests of journalistic rigour, we put our worst woman on the job. 

Instead of an article, however, she returned with a pile of feverishly hand-scrawled pages of observations, some out-of-focus photos, and a number of disconnected typo-ladden sentence fragments from the Notes App of her phone which she expected us to turn into a story, I guess.

Rather than do our job as editors, we’ve opted to present Evan’s mania as a sort of Anthropological account of the Head of the Trent—an ethnographic study of one of the defining cultural moments of the Trent Academic Calendar year.

If both the writing and content are deranged, it’s perhaps a testament to the lengths to which our intrepid author went to immerse herself in her material.

Without further ado, therefore, Arthur presents a rigorous, empirical ethnography of the Head of the Trent regatta weekend, otherwise known as “Things Evan Overheard at HOTT.”

Enjoy.

At the start of the morning, our venerable reporter stationed herself at one of the busiest places on the regatta course: The Narrows.

So called because the course gets really narrow there as it snakes through the Nassau Mills canal, the Narrows immediately precede the landmark of the Peterborough Rowing Club and the final sprint to the finish line.

Both sides of the canal are lined with spectators, legs dangling over its concrete walls. The Nassau Mills Rd. side of the canal further serves as home base for the out-of-town teams, who pitch colourful tents along the banks and scream unfathomably loudly whenever one of their crews goes by.

This sea of buzzing humanity presents ample opportunities for anthropological insights (read: overhearing people say weird shit).

The early interactions of the day did not disappoint, as a number of uOttawa students wearing sandals, Wayfarer sunglasses, and pink shirts that read “Novice Crew” approached our journalist’s position carrying an ornamental gourd; a pumpkin, with the letters “G” and “G” crudely carved into it.

“Does this look like two ‘c’s to you? This looks like two ‘c’s to me.”

–disgruntled pumpkin-sporting GeeGee’s crew member.

"Guys we are ELITE varsity athletes"

–uOttawa rower wearing a shirt which read “Novice Crew”

At the same time, the first Division was rowing down from Trent to the start of the race at the Parkhill Road bridge.

As they did, many crews shouted amongst themselves, either counting out strokes, or shouting our words of encouragement.

"Let's disappoint them!”

–Carleton crew members

"I fucking love you Alex!"

“I love you too man.”

–Exchange between aforementioned Carleton crew and spectators.

Once the crews had departed, two men in an aluminum boat which could only be described in such terms as “dinky” or “piddly” ventured into the canal in a bid to hawk wares to the waiting crowds.

"Popcorn for a toonie! Two-dollar popcorn, delivery included"

–Guy selling popcorn out of a boat

Despite an eager audience, the men in the boat seemed hard pressed to sell their merchandise. This may have had to do in part with the fact that they were in a boat, and kept drifting away from the people they were trying to do business with.

Arthur attempted to initiate a transaction, but the men failed to notice our correspondent.

Eventually the men in the boat departed, and a general boredom set over the assembled spectators as they waited for the other boats to show.

The uOttawa novices took this as an opportunity to participate in some incredibly safe and sanctioned activities, which is to say, climbing the old rusted train bridge beside the Nassau Mills footbridge.

“Doing that in crocs is WILD”

–Girl yelling at a man climbing the train bridge.

Remarkably, none of the would-be urbexxers were injured, and in short order some boats did indeed show up. It was all very exciting.

At this point, our reporter quit the scene to instead take her father to a record store, where she acquired a copy of Luciferian Towers by Godspeed You! Black Emperor and The Holy Bible by Manic Street Preachers, thankyouverymuch.

However, a true journalist is never off the clock, which is why she made note of the myriad symbol-adorned sheets hung off the porches of student houses as signposts(?) indicating general and non-rowing-related merriment.

Highlights include:

“Get Bent at Trent”

[Editor’s Note: unclear whether an allusion to homosexual sex acts or imbibing recreational controlled substances]

“Trent is HOTT, Guelph is Not”

[Editor’s Note: unclear as to the motivations. Are Guelph Trent’s biggest rivals?”

“Toronto Sux”

“You Can Take Us HOTT-to-go”

[Editor’s Note: Saw a lot of this one this year.]

“Your Daddy Pays My Rent”

[Editor’s Note: Arthur applauds class consciousness.]

“Daughter Drop-Off” 

[Editor’s Note: Charming (sarcasm)]

Further, while walking around downtown Peterborough there were indeed a semi-noteworthy number of people wearing green. One of these people—a young woman wearing a cropped Trent hoodie and white skirt—made an observation which might break Trent VP External Relations and Development, Julie Davis’, heart.

"There's nothing worthwhile on campus"

Her comments, granted, might be excused given our reporter returned to campus later that same day to get a sense of the Head of the Trent festivities on campus beside the rowing itself, only to find the licensed “Beer Garden” area mostly empty and the DJ playing “Kung Fu Fighting” by Carl Douglas VERY. LOUDLY.

Drinking beer and listening to 70s novelty hits were not the only attractions, however. There was also a well-appointed “Kids Area” (seemingly abandoned) set up in the Student Centre parking lot.

Despite seeing a couple apparently underaged students milling outside the licensed area, Arthur saw no one making use of the Jenga, Connect-4, or Tic-Tac-Toe.

Pepper the Clown was equally nowhere to be seen.

Further down the footpath, a soccer game between Trent and Laurier was in the process of being blown-out, with Trent having scored five goals already—an absurd number to anyone who knows anything about football.

It proved sufficiently entertaining, however, for the half-dozen or so police officers milling about in the stands. 

It is difficult to overstate just how many cops were on campus Saturday.

Having taken in the sights and sounds and smells and sounds of campus (some 80s dad rock got sprinkled into the mix), our correspondent retired again to the narrows to watch the best event of the day: novice teams.

For sadists and schadenfreude enjoyers of all stripes, novice rowing is the real soul of the sport. In no other category is the spectacle so complete, the likelihood of overturning so high, or the usage of profanity so prevalent.

The very first boat proved no disappointment, as it came careening into the Narrows, the crew desperately following their coxswain’s orders to attempt a pinballing sort-of escape trajectory.

"MAKE SURE WE’RE NOT HITTING THE SIDE!"

–Carleton coxswain

Against all odds, the crew managed to pull it off, though successive teams were not so lucky.

"We can only go up from here!"

–Guelph coxswain, upon running into the side of the canal

"WE'RE FINDING OUR RHYTHM"

-Coxswain of a boat very much not in rhythm

"Let's not sink ze boat!"

-French Canadian man cheering for McGill [Note: Editorializing Arthur's]

Between bouts, the boat men returned to try to sell shit to spectators with renewed vigour. This time, however, they bore not only popped corn, but equally #8ACE00 (“Brat green”) Head of the Trent shirts, which a number of excitable middle-aged lookers-on fell over themselves (but luckily not into the river) to buy.

"All you hot moms and hot dads, we want to dress you up in Head of the Trent apparel!"

-Man who had earlier been selling popcorn out of a boat

[Editor’s Note: due to the aural nature of this communication, it is impossible to conclusively determine the spelling of the appellation “/hAHt/” being spoken. We leave this to our readers to infer]

While tragically no boats overturned, there was nonetheless a good deal of spectacle to go around.

However, as an intellectual and informative paper above all else, it falls to us at Arthur to leave you, reader, with two pieces of peerless advice received from the proceedings of HOTT’24.

"Stroke smarter, not harder"

This proverb, paraphrased by the author, is a mantra to live by applicable in any number of situations involving stroking or similar physical exertions. 

It can also be taken figuratively, as a recommendation to not over-extend oneself, but rather find the most efficient way of completing a given task.

Lastly,

“HOTT Tuah; row on that thing!"”

“I fucking hate you guys”

–Exchange overheard between Queen’s crew members

Arthur has nothing to editorialize about the above interaction. Such words of wisdom speak for themselves.