Punting is not as easy as it looks. I know this because I’ve seen the tourists on the River Cam, unable to navigate their flat-bottomed vessels in a straight line, even when sober.
I know it, too, because I was once one of those Cambridge students who are only too happy to spend an afternoon floating down the picture-pretty college backs when they should be in the library.
Years have passed since I was last on a punt. So, when the idea of spending a few hours perfecting my punting technique was mooted, I jumped at it – though I was hardly aware at the time of how much actual jumping would be involved.
My tutor for the session is Richard Butler, a third-year student of the history of art and architecture. He is also the president of St John’s College Punt Society, which manages a fleet of 10 punts. The vessels are named after Royal Navy ships – ours is the Vanguard – and have all been blessed by the college chaplain.
The punt society’s ethos is summed up on its webpage: “Why work, when you could be out punting on the Cam?” The website also has advice that it promises will “help you impress your passengers and overtake the punt tours”.
I’m going one better by getting personal instruction from Butler. The main requisite, he says, is good balance, although upper body strength helps. “If you’re out for two or three hours, it’s quite a workout.” Anything else? “Some knowledge of maths and vectors is useful,” he adds. Butler is only half-joking – he studied engineering before switching subjects.
As we push upstream, past Trinity College’s immaculate lawns, Butler demonstrates the technique. Standing on the stern deck, a punter must drop the pole, or quant, vertically into the water to push off the river bottom. Dropping it close to the edge of the punt is essential. Release it too far out and the punt will soon veer off course.
In Oxford, punters usually stand on the bow. “It makes sense,” Butler admits. “Punts were originally used to hunt for fowl, and hunters would have steadied their guns on the stern deck while someone else pushed from bow. But if you try that style in Cambridge, you might get some bad looks.”
As we approach King’s College, its chapel looming picturesquely, Butler hands me control. I fumble awkwardly with the 16ft pole before I can push off the embankment. “Not too bad,” he says, as I shove the punt, haltingly, upriver. Punts are rudderless, so the pole is used for steering as well as for propulsion. I succeed in keeping to the right, as river etiquette demands.
“The biggest nightmare is getting your pole stuck in the river bed,” says Butler. “The crucial thing is not to hold on to the pole. If you do, you’ll end up in the river.” No sooner does he say this than I feel the bottom mud sucking at the pole. My first impulse is to pull. Instead, I let go. The pole remains vertically in place as we drift away. Now we must paddle back to retrieve it.
Crisis over, we arrive at the Mill Pond, where a weir separates the river’s upper and lower sections. We haul the punt over steel rollers. The punt, made mostly from mahogany and plywood, is surprisingly heavy. Once on the upper river, the scenery changes quickly as college buildings give way to woods and meadows.
Now Butler suggests I work on my style. Proficient punters can drop and bring up the pole using only one hand. This avoids the hand-over-hand motion that, Butler says, sends water dripping down your sleeves and all over your passengers. But I seem to get wetter than ever as I essay this move.
And there’s another specialist skill to come. It’s called bridge-hopping, also known as punt-jumping. The bridge-hopper (or punt-jumper) stands on a punt as it approaches a bridge, then climbs on to the bridge, and jumps off the other side back on to his punt.
Butler has picked the lowest bridge on the river for me, an iron structure near the village of Newnham. I clamber on to it with ease, if not elegance – but I almost lose my nerve when it comes to jumping back on. I leap off and land on the punt as it emerges on the other side of the bridge – before Simon, our on-board photographer, is ready to shoot. Can we try again? I had never jumped off a bridge in my life, and now I’ve done it twice on the same day.
This small moment of triumph seems like the right point at which to end our expedition, and so we begin to make our way back. There is only one more thing I feel I ought to try to round off my education: punting Oxford-style.
Steering seems more difficult, and keeping my balance is harder. We almost run aground on an island filled with semi-clad sunbathing beauties. Butler and the photographer agree that it would have been good for my story, but bad for my standing in the community.
As the river is now gridlocked with pushy punt tours and punting novices, Butler suggests that I revert to the old-fashioned Cambridge way. “You did well,” he says. “Of course, it would have been more interesting if you’d been terrible at punting. Or if you’d fallen in.”
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The details
To book a punting tour on the River Cam, telephone 01223 359750 or visit www.scudamores.com