The following is copied from an article that appeared in the Austin American-Statesman. (Original article no longer available on the Statesman web site.)
COMMENTARY: JOHN KELSO
Rowboat commute means you don't have to deal with the Californians, unless they're driving drag boats
Friday, November 09, 2007
You can't name me two people in the Austin area who are decreasing their carbon footprint in a more unusual and colorful way than Marlowe Macintyre and Bob "BJ" Johnson.
Now, the reason they're using a boat for commuting — Marlowe calls herself a "row-muter" — isn't to save the polar bears. It's to save themselves from getting honked at in rush-hour traffic by all of these goofballs who have moved here from California.
"It wasn't the drive there at 5:30 (in the morning) that was so bad," said BJ, 63, a fifth-generation Texan who fixes Alfa Romeos for a living. "It was the drive back at 4:30 in the afternoon that was heinous."
See, BJ's wife, Marlowe, gets to work by rowing the small boat. Well, not entirely by boat. But mostly.
Nearly every school day, Marlowe, who teaches fifth-grade math at Bagdad Elementary in the Leander school district, climbs into a little metal boat on the south shore of Lake Travis in Spicewood, just downhill from where she and BJ live. Sometimes she rows the half-mile across the lake. Sometimes BJ rows.
It takes about 10 minutes to get across the lake, BJ figures, depending on the weather. "If the wind's blowing and howling, maybe 20 minutes," he said.
But the big thing here is that the couple says the boat trip cuts out about 100 miles of driving a day for Marlowe, or 500 miles a week. That's like eliminating a one-way trip to Amarillo. Marlowe and BJ say with their route it's about 136 miles round trip by car from their home in Spicewood, about 30 miles west of Austin, to the Bagdad school, although Google Maps begs to differ, putting it closer to 100. We're talking about a drive from the south side of Lake Travis to the north side of the lake.
So, Marlowe leaves her 13-year-old Volvo station wagon parked on the north shore of the lake across from her home. Then, after the boat ride, she just hikes up the hill to her car. And from there it's only about a 20-mile drive to the school. She carries a bag of deer corn to toss to the deer, to keep the rutting bucks from messing with her.
Not only does the boat trip cut down on gas money (Marlowe figures she saves about $12 a day), it also cuts down on ulcers.
"Really, it's the aggravation," Marlowe said. "When I make that long drive and see those folks every day going down 620, I just feel for them. Seriously, you get so many angry people. They're in a big hurry, and they're just not enjoying their commute. And when you're a row-muter, you don't have to worry about it. If I could just figure out a way to keep a horse on the other side and go by horseback."
Oh, there are drawbacks, like the drag boats.
"If you own stock in a funeral parlor, then they're not a problem," BJ said.
Some people have asked BJ and Marlowe why they don't break down and buy a motor. "We tried a little outboard motor for a while, but when it gets cold, it doesn't want to start. But with rowing, he always starts or I always start," Marlowe said.
"These are fine quality Academy Surplus paddles, by the way," BJ said, showing off his oars. "These are finely tuned."
Sure, there are days when they can't row across because of bad weather. But not many. "I've only driven (the whole way) once this year so far," Marlowe said. "That Monday two weeks ago when we had 35- or 40-mile-an-hour wind gusts." So she borrowed one of BJ's Alfa Romeos and made the trip the long way around.
Then there are the health benefits. BJ says some of the "old mossbacks" who live in the neighborhood give him a hard time about taking his wife to work in a boat. But he gets the last laugh because the rowing keeps him in shape.
"Now they've found out I get the time to do this because I don't have to spend all of my time in a damn doctor's office," BJ said.
And besides that, it's "kind of romantical," as Marlowe put it.
"It's the only commute where you can get naked and jump in the lake when you go home," BJ said.
