When I paddled the Berg river marathon, that crazy 200km (‘240km Pete!’ Giel van Deventer reminds me. He’s the Berg historian) freezing flatwater foolishness, the oldest oke in the race was Ole man Myers (ancient: 60 if he was a day). He lost his boat one night when the waters rose (he’d left it too close to the bank). Next day he had to find it downstream and take it back to the start – and so arrived at that leg’s finish VERY late – even after me.
When word came to the camp that he was arriving we all gathered on the bank to welcome him.
He paddled up in the dark singing:
“Roamin’ in the gloamin’
by the bonny banks of Clyde . .”