Dotting the dragons’ eyes, 2025

This is done on the fifth day of the fifth Chinese lunar month and recalls the origins of traditional dragon boat ceremonies.

Many thanks to Barbara and Sandra who had prepared flowers and other decorations for the the boats and dragon heads and led us through the ceremony.

The ceremony includes ‘dotting the eyes’ of the dragon. We invite members and supporters to paint a circle in the centre of the eye of the dragon heads that attach to the boats.

Staff from the watersports centre who give us great on-site support and two more recent members did the honours.

The traditions involve throwing rice or buckwheat on the water.

‘Hell money’ is burnt to ease the way through the ‘afterlife’.

Traditionally paddlers ‘beat the waters’ to scare of fish (demons) but by this time the wind had picked up.

So the paddling sessions were brief. The V6 went out for a longer paddle as it can cope better with the windy conditions.

Thanks to all who brought food for a ‘Jacobs Join’ shared lunch. Part of this day is a ‘Thank You’ lunch for the support given by members, usually family and friends, who have not had a cancer diagnosis.

 

On waters deep, where sorrows sleep,
A poet’s heart, a kingdom’s weep.
Qu Yuan’s soul, in righteous rage,
Embraced the river, closed life’s page.
His homeland lost, a noble’s dread,
A silken scroll of verses read.
The people paddled, with frantic might,
To chase the shadows of the night.
Their paddles churned the water’s face,
A desperate, mournful, loyal race.
With beating drums, rice offerings thrown,
A hero’s spirit, sadly flown.

Two thousand years, the currents flow,
And dragon boats, in vibrant glow,
Still cleave the waves, a timeless art,
But now they carry a different heart.
No longer grief, but spirits bright,
A crew of women, bathed in light.
Their arms, once burdened, now find strength,
Across the water’s measured length.
For in their veins, a battle fought,
A victory claimed, a lesson taught.
The dragon’s scales, a rosy hue,
Reflect the dawn of life anew.

These are the paddlers, pink and bold,
A sisterhood, a story told.
Of bodies scarred, but spirits whole,
Who found their rhythm, took control.
The drumbeat thunders, not in dread,
But with the pulse of life instead.
Each stroke a triumph, sharp and clean,
A declaration, strong and keen.
They pull as one, a joyful sound,
On healing waters, they are crowned.

The splash of paddles, light and free,
A laughter rings for all to see.
No sorrow here, no dark despair,
But joyful shouts that fill the air.
They race not for a hero gone,
But for the promise of the dawn.
For every woman, every friend,
A journey that will never end.
The dragon’s head, it proudly rears,
Dispelling shadows, calming fears.

So let the drums of old resound,
On this renewed and hallowed ground.
Let Qu Yuan’s legend softly sleep,
While modern tides of triumph leap.
For in the boat, a vibrant crew,
With every stroke, the world is new.
And in their wake, a message clear,
Of joy, and life, and vanquished fear.
The dragon dances, light and free,
With women paddling, wild with glee.