T'was the night before the Start of the race season and all was quiet except for 23 beating hearts... And a wild pack of female hyenas and a fire alarm and various other night terrors...

The journey up had certainly been a long one but 23 hardy Exe-Calibre Knights and Maidens had all managed to make it safely to a Rachel-found ark of happiness set deep within the Northern wilds.

As everyone unpacked certain Maidens busied themselves with an enjoyable game of murder in the dark with their radiators. Our formidable Maidens once again came out on top - the radiators remaining dead throughout the rest of the night.

A welcomed communal feast soon followed where I learned exactly why I don't do race strategy...

Waiting till the end so I could steal the biggest portion (a favourite - selfishness disguised as altruism strategy of mine) went horribly wrong for me. The child's plate I eventually received looked like little more than a suitable toy to throw out of my pram. Fortunately a couple of generous chicken pacifiers from Tracey and the littlest mermaid would in the end keep her tail!

With the sun setting and most bellies full it was then time to sit back and take in a Northern scene of bucolic brilliance. That being trees, grass and Geordie alcoholic lasses frolicking about with their push chairs. It was memorable...then the kid with the rat's tail made an appearance and let's just say it's a tale few of us will ever forget!

After some similarly impressive but hard to digest (for the mathematically challenged) pie chart puddings from Lisa, it was time to tally up our superpowers, throw our technical capes over our shoulders and finally head in the direction of the nearest pub.

Much hilarity and a couple of upside down Cornish ales later the prospect of hitting our bunk beds seemed a bit less painful. So hit them we did, it hurt, but not much.

The reported howling hyenas and fire alarms gave way all too soon to the sounds of our own morning alarms and corresponding rituals. Which in Curt's case proved to be an enthusiastic 'more than a feeling' underneath the covers!! Breakfast was a hastily forgotten compilation tape of porridge, nuts and communal showers. Not sure in what order.

The journey to the race site was a similar blur. Though when lead foot Lisa was passed by Ed in the speeding bullet it perhaps gave a glimpse of what Amathus might feel when we pass them later on in the season!! Arrival in Stockton was quickly marked when a little mishap with our new trailer led to some unfortunate bump and grind board breakage. Fortunately Simon and his super fixing powers were on hand, this time involving him morphing himself into a Sparky and successfully fixing the broken electrics.

Ed quickly took the lead and was erecting fast. Soon bags were emptied all over the place and the site was looking satisfyingly less inexperienced. Time for a cigarette or perhaps a walk around...

The facilities here were good. The refreshments were notable in their different price structure for teas and coffees. Notable! Bacon baps were good, £2. Cakes 60p. Brown sauce was evident but thankfully not in the portaloo sense. Hurray!

It would be three-lane racing here. With an impressive bridge marking the half way point of the 500 metre course. In typical BDA race fashion most of the spectators were again dressed in their usual garb of trees, shrubs and miscellaneous buildings. But there was a sighting of a man on the bridge. As I said the bridge was impressive!

Rachel had a practice at helming first with Powerhouse. Practice over she returned confirming her preference for lighter wood. Not really sure what that means as not really done much helming myself. But Ryan could be seen throughout most of the day slapping on the factor 50 with a hopeful look on his face...

Go! Did they say go? I'm not sure but I'm paddling like hell. No matter how much you train for them these race starts tend to sneak up on you.

We were up against Rage and Powerhouse. Rage started fast as they always do. But we were up with them and still feeling like we had another gear or two. Powerhouse meanwhile could have done with a powerboat (ha ha ha ha) to keep up. It was all over crazy fast. I thought the calls were out at first but realised later it was just because I forgot to breathe! There almost wasn't time. We had won, in a New Club Record. Becky how the hell were you able to cool us lot down?

No reps for us, just enough time to have another shark amongst all the fit Lycra...

Go! Did they say go? I'm not sure but again I'm paddling like hell. Race two and what happened? As I say I'm not really sure. One moment you are at the start line with you're blade happily buried. Perhaps you are watching the water gently lap around the sexy carbon weave? Yes perhaps this makes you a tad bit horny but that doesn't really explain... BANG next moment you are a sweaty mess at the finish line, with damp race pants, wondering what the hell just happened??

So what did happen? Erm turns out we were second behind Worcester. Very close though. And first time under 48 seconds for us!

Worcester this year is notably sporting a very 'male' centric team. We had no answer to their obvious 'macho'ness today, but some of our male team members knowledge of 70's disco from the BDA mix tape was certainly encouraging for the future!

Final 200m race - we found ourselves again alongside Raging Dragons and our old adversaries from last year's standard league, a much improved Notts Anaconda. The combination of next to no side wind and Rachel's safe pair of hands (Like a referee eh Becky? - Black clothing over lower limbs??) ensured another quick start!!

Go Go Go GO we're off and hitting the phases hard. Anaconda was with us most of the way but not close enough to asphyxiate our wind pipes. Raging meanwhile were left crying again presumably with rage into their Sun Lik beers. So another great victory in the battle of the beer brands (and various animals) to the O'Hanlons Stallions and Stallionettes (erm us).

Good work! Now we feast.

Lunch. What the hell do you eat during a race day? Too much sweet stuff usually. The heat in this respect didn't help. Either we were amazingly lucky or they have been lying to us about the grimness of the North and the supposed toughness of its vest wearing inhabitants for all these years!

Our own guy in a tight vest Curt was enjoying the opportunity the fine weather afforded to give the girls diet coke breaks at amazingly generous intervals. His reward other than I'm sure an impressive queue at times for the female loos was towards the end of the day becoming redder than the man named the Lobster! (Whether this will help Curt regain his fastest paddler crown from the Lobster remains to be seen). A lot has been written about colour and supposed athletic prowess. But I'm not going to go there...

John meanwhile seen burying his bulk into a bucket of drugs throughout most of the day was himself remaining tight lipped about what the exact secret of his success might be??

Somewhat refreshed then, the 500's began.

With a lighter crew than most we had high hopes for the 500 metre event. These proved to be well grounded as we took on Crusaders and the Worchester Dragonflies in the first heat. A slight lurch around the mid point provided perhaps some excitement for the guy on the bridge but otherwise a good easy win for Exe-Calibre. And what a time! 2 min 10.64, the fastest of the heats...

Better than Amathus and Batchworth in fact who were caught with their race pants down by ours and Worcester's great times. This meant they would face each other in the next race, meaning one wouldn't make the final!

Again no reps for us! (We could soon get a rep for this).

The next race we were up against Hurricanes and again Crusaders. We were all quite relaxed before this one, with Lisa historically telling us NOT to give it everything! Knowing we just had to win to be in the final. Hence the famous Zone of Intimidation was perhaps dropped slightly which provided the requisite BDA event Chavs an opportunity to serenade us with a pop version (alcopop) of row, row, row, the boat. It was kind of beautiful and notably without swearing but jeeze when will the underclass (my family and friends) realise it is Paddling?? Not Rowing! Paddling - damn it!!

Go, go, go, you know the drill by now... Hurricanes tried hard but by the half way point we had successfully managed to give both them and Crusaders the heave hoe. Sparky admittedly providing much of the heave. No comment in regards the hoes.

And finally then on to the Major final! It was a suitably tense affair with the first twitchy start of the day. After winning a hard fight with Batchworth in the semi's Amathus had the middle lane. The Worcester boys meanwhile were looking totally 'fierce' in lane 3, while we were of course number 1.

Bang we're off! Was there a start gun?? I can't really remember but there was a war! Amathus were fighting hard, as only guys still wearing shell suits in 2011 can. But we and the 'saucy' boys wouldn't let them go.

This time we gave it everything!! Wringing all our last reserves of Soreen out of our veins to Chrissie's drum beat.

In the end though it just wasn't quite enough and we came in third. But notably there was no daylight between the three boats. Just like there was no daylight during most of our winter training! Even in defeat then the overriding feeling was that all our hard work is beginning to pay off. With a bit more respect already from the big teams. The feeling is that there is much more left from us to come!

So that was more or less it. Just enough time for the guys with the reported biggest bow waves (us*) to take their bows, collect their bling and say goodbye to a gorgeous weekend's racing in Stockton on tees in vests.

And yes the car journey home was long, and so was this report! But challenging shared experiences such as these - are surely what make us stand out from all the other teams?? Yes arguably overly sweaty at times, but ultimately more bonded than Amanda's bag of Maltesers!

So roll on London... We will be ready.

* Source - the daddy.